


Ten Points for Gryffindor

by VivacissimoVoce



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Christmas, Crack, Fluff, Healers, Humor, M/M, Patronus, Post-Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco, Romance, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivacissimoVoce/pseuds/VivacissimoVoce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas and Harry is growing antlers, but no one knows why.  Perhaps Draco Malfoy can apply his expertise as a Healer and figure out how to remove them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
> 
> Merry Christmas, Drarry shippers! Here’s a holiday-themed story that popped into my head after seeing a production still from Daniel Radcliffe’s latest movie titled “Horns.”. My take on horned-Harry is sweet, sappy, fluffy, and it might make you go squee. Enjoy!

Ronald Weasley narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together in a tight line of concentration. He stepped one foot back to brace himself and raised his wand with steady confidence. He stared hard at his best friend of nearly fifteen years and recited the incantation in his mind one more time, just to be sure he had it right.

"Ready, mate?"

"Just do it."

Ron took a breath, closed his eyes for a brief moment to ready himself, then swished and lashed out with a rehearsed flourish. "Depilatorus!" he shouted.

A bright flash exploded from the tip of his wand and bathed Harry in searing white light. They both belatedly blocked their eyes with their hands as the light faded, then peeked out with nervous expectation. Harry raised his hands to his head and flinched at the sensation of fingertips on smooth skin.

"Ron!" he gasped. "What did you do?"

"Oh no," Ron gulped. "Listen, it will grow back, I promise."

Harry whirled around and gawked at himself in the hallway mirror. His scalp was as smooth as an egg, his eyebrows were absent, and even his eyelashes were now gone. He was completely hairless. Worse, the two velvety bumps that bulged from his skull just above his temples were still there, totally untouched by the spell.

"You realize," he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to scream, "this isn't exactly an improvement."

"Sorry, Harry," Ron hung his head in shame.

Harry slumped to his bedroom and flopped down on his bed. This was shaping up to be a bad Christmas, he thought. Ron was right, his hair would return, and in the meantime he could wear a hat to cover up the mistake. The horns, on the other hand, well, they were still growing and pretty soon nothing would be able to cover them up. And that was worse than baldness.


	2. Chapter 2

Horns!

It couldn't be true, but there they were, pushing out from his scalp, covered in a soft ecru fuzz and growing by the day. At first he'd merely been angry that the dark wizard he and Ron had pursued for three months had nearly gotten away, thanks to his slow reaction and total bloody lack of defense. If Ron hadn't stepped in with a killing curse, he would have escaped with three captive muggle children still under his control and feeding his grim powers. But they'd saved the day, or rather Ron had saved the day, and Harry had woken up in a daze, lying on his back, staring up at the cold December sky with the overwhelmingly bitter taste of failure in his mouth.

He didn't begrudge Ron the collar, that wasn't the Auror way. Besides, he was well overdue for a tremendous act of heroism. What kind of friend would Harry be if he couldn't be happy for his friend's success? Still, it had chafed when they'd raised their glasses to Ron back at the Ministry of Magic, and for once Harry wasn't the "jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny."

When he noticed the first bump on his scalp,he thought it was just a resurgence of teen acne, which had followed him into his early twenties, and now at the quarter century mark was only just beginning to pass. He used a tea tree tincture and a clarity charm in the hopes of whisking away the problem before it could become inflamed. But when he noticed the matching bump on the other side later that afternoon, he thought it seemed like an odd coincidence. Symmetrical acne was not something his body was known for.

The following morning the bumps had grown further, about the size of a Knut each. They weren't painful, just a pair of hard, rounded domes that were easily concealed by his hair. He spent some time in the morning researching possible causes in the spell archives, until patrol duty with Ron tore him away. He didn't mention it to his partner, it didn't seem worthy of mention.

By Wednesday the lumps had become two hard knots, as big around as a Sickle, sticking out several centimeters from his scalp. Only his exceptionally messy hair kept them concealed. On anyone with a normal haircut they would be visible as two white circles. That was when he decided to visit the Ministry Healer, the head of the Department of Magical Maladies and Wizard Health Services, the man to whom all of St. Mungo's healers reported. Surely a man of his stature would know right away what he was looking at.

"Did you hit your head recently?" the Ministry Healer frowned as he poked the bumps with his wand. "These look like lumps you get when you bump your head."

"I haven't hit my head." Harry said. He was sitting in his undershirt and shorts on an examination table, not quite sure why he was so close to naked when the problem was on his skull.

"The lumps are perfectly symmetrical," the Healer grasped his chin and tipped his face up so he could squint at him straight on. He retrieved a set of calipers from a drawer and measured Harry's head lengthwise and widthwise, then grunted thoughtfully.

"So what is it?" Harry asked. "Can I put my trousers on now?"

"Certainly, get dressed." The Healer sat at his desk and thumbed through a few books while Harry yanked on his trousers and buttoned up his shirt. He tied his tie and pulled his Auror robes around his shoulders, and finally sat impatiently at the older man's desk.

"Anything?" he asked. He resisted the urge to touch the bumps, the fuzzy lumps that he was certain were bigger now than they had been just this morning.

"Horns," the Healer looked up. "You're growing horns."

"Horns," Harry said dumbly. "Why in Merlin's name would that be happening?"

"I haven't a clue," the Healer laughed, then realized it probably wasn't funny to his patient. "Have you been hexed recently? Perhaps on a recent case?"

"I don't think so," Harry stopped mid-denial. Well, that wasn't altogether true. "Maybe. I cast a Patronus at a suspect last week and he countered with a curse, but I wasn't quite able to hear what it was. It knocked me out, but I thought my Patronus absorbed it."

"Did you capture the suspect? Could you find out what he cast?"

"He's dead," Harry said grimly.

"Well," the Healer sat back in his chair. "That makes my job a bit harder, now doesn't it?"

"Right," Harry pushed his glasses up on his forehead and rubbed his eyes. "Is there anything I can do about it? I'd like it cleared up before Christmas if possible."

"None that I know of," the Healer closed his heavy book with a soft thud. "I'll keep researching. Come back and see me if it doesn't clear up on its own."

Harry agreed, but he knew he was just getting lip service. Of course it wasn't going to clear up on its own. Nothing ever did.

****************************************

When the fuzzy nubs started to peek out through the thicket of Harry's hair, he finally had to come clean to Ron. They shared a flat, after all. And they were partners. And they were best mates. So of course he needed to know.

"Horns," Ron frowned as he looked up from the ice box. "Are you certain?"

"What does it look like to you?" Harry bowed his head and flattened his hair with his hands.

Ron took a sip from his beer bottle and approached slowly. He touched one of the lumps with the tip of his finger, sending a tingle down Harry's spine.

"Why would you be growing horns?" Ron shuddered and backed away. "If you grew scales, I would understand that."

"For Merlin's sake, why?"

"Well, you being a Parselmouth and all," Ron shrugged.

"I guess," Harry didn't think that sounded understandable at all.

"But horns, I don't have an explanation for that."

"Neither did the healer," Harry sighed and dropped into a chair. "I'm going to have to start wearing hats."

"Maybe Hermione would know what to do about them," Ron suggested. "She's back from her trip to Norway. The Centaur conference went well."

"I'm not ready to tell anyone else."

"But she might--"

"I know she might," Harry said. "It's just too embarrassing. I can't tell her."

"All right," Ron eyed him dubiously. "But when they start curling around your head like a ram, maybe you'll consider letting her have a look."

"If it gets to that point, I will," Harry said. "In the meantime, let's see what we can come up with on our own."

And that was why Harry, who laid motionless in bed staring at the ceiling, was now bald.

*****************************************

"You don't have to tell me where your eyebrows went, but you will take your hat off," Kingsley was low on patience and nothing Harry said would deter him. 

His eyebrows were slowly growing in, twin lines of black stubble, and his eyelashes were starting to make a reappearance as well. He had used up all of his sick days waiting until he looked semi-human again, but of course that meant the horns had had the opportunity to grow significantly in that time.

He reluctantly lifted his stocking cap and revealed the two pale protrusions, which now stuck as far out of his stubbly hair as the length of his index finger.

"Well," Kingsley sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "That's interesting. When did that happen?"

"About a week ago, sir," Harry was miserable.

"A week?" Kingsley shot straight up in his chair and scowled. "You've been walking around with a curse for a week? You know better than that."

"Sir, I apologize but I didn't think it was serious enough--"

"Serious enough? Great Merlin's ghost you're growing horns!" Kingsley rose to his feet and pointed at the door. "You get yourself to the Healer and don't show up for duty again until you're cleared of all spells."

"Yessir," Harry hung his head and slouched out of the Minister's office. Belatedly he pulled the stocking cap over his head to conceal his buzzed hair and the unmistakable shapes growing from his skull.

Unfortunately the Healer was no closer to identifying the cause of the growth than he was on the first visit. He grunted and squinted and huffed and sighed, he poked and prodded and scraped and pulled, but offered no answers.

"You know what this looks like," he murmured as he held an illuminated wand above Harry's head and peered at the growths through a magnifying lens. "Deer velvet."

"What's that?" Harry flinched and covered his horns with his hands as the doctor scraped again. 

"It's a soft, almost velvety sheath that covers antlers when they're first growing in," the Healer murmured as he leaned in closer. "It's used extensively in vitality magic. It increases testosterone and stamina."

"Does that mean it comes off?" Harry was too distressed by the lack of answers to get his hopes up again. 

"It might," the healer said. "Try scrubbing it in the shower. And if it comes off will you bring it to me? I could put it to good use."

"You want to make a potion from my--," Harry couldn't finish as the gorge rose in his throat. 

"If it's normal deer velvet, I don't see what the problem is."

"I have to go," Harry scooped up his shirt and ran for the door.

He misjudged the width of the doorway and clipped the tip of his right horn on the frame, knocking him into the opposite wall. He clutched his skull where the growth emerged and seethed while his vision spun. That wasn't any fun. And the fact that they were getting big enough to run into things was terrifying. It was time to haul out the big artillery. 

It was time to go see Hermione.


	3. Chapter 3

"That hat is ridiculous."

"Thanks, Gin."

Hermione was momentarily occupied, her mouth firmly attached to Ron's face, her hands groping his backside without shame. 

Harry sat at the dinette table in the corner of the kitchen and waited. The oversized balloon-shaped Rastafarian tam was heavy on his head, and frankly didn't do a good enough job of hiding the stalks that now poked out a significant distance from his head. 

"Don't you have to be Jamaican to wear one of those?" Ginny sat next to him and clasped her hands around her teacup. Her cropped ginger hair crested dramatically above her face, in a style shared by all of her Quidditch teammates as a show of unity. It made her look somewhat boyish, and Harry found it rather appealing for obvious reasons. 

"It's just a hat," Harry said. "It's cold out."

"It's a daft shape," she said. "Why does it stick out in those funny peaks?"

"It just does. Look, I need to speak to Hermione privately." Harry had to fight the urge to hide the telltale points with his hands. 

"It's my flat, too."

They glared at each other bitterly as Hermione and Ron continued their shameless groping. Finally they parted and Ron sat quickly to hide the growing problem in his trousers. Hermione busied herself by putting the kettle on, her cheeks flushed and her hair askew. 

"So what did you want to talk about, Harry?" She smiled pleasantly as she straightened her blouse. "Is it that horrid hat?"

"No," Harry's heart beat frantically in his chest. "It's sort of," he looked to Ron for help. "Sort of--"

"Below that," Ron finished. 

"Love life problems?" Hermione asked with deep sympathy.

"No!" Harry's face flushed deep crimson. "Above that! On my head!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Ginny's hand dashed out and yanked the tam off. 

Hermione dropped both cups of tea. 

"Reparo," Ron was quick on the draw again, rescuing the shattered cups and saucers before the pieces had stopped skittering across the floor. Hermione didn't notice, she was too busy dropping into the chair across from Harry and staring at his head.

Ginny burst out laughing. She doubled over and guffawed hysterically, totally oblivious to Harry's glower. When she ran out of breath she looked up at his face and fell over laughing again. 

"Come on, Ginny," Ron said. "Have a heart."

"I always said he was never horny enough when we were dating," she wheezed between gales of laughter. "Maybe he's just making up for lost time!"

"Very funny," Harry sat back in his chair and stared angrily at the ceiling. 

"Can I look?" Hermione asked as she circled the table. She stood behind him and touched here and there, uttering the occasional thoughtful grunt and muttering to herself. "Do they hurt?"

"No," Harry said. "They feel like an extension of my skull."

"They sort of are," she said. "They're bony protrusions."

"Don't!" Ron snapped his finger at Ginny who looked up in delight. 

"When did this happen?" Hermione went to her desk to get a magnifying glass. 

"A couple of weeks ago," Harry said. "I noticed them after Ron's collar in Camden."

"He cast a Patronus but the target countered," Ron said. "Neither of us heard what he cast, and unfortunately I had to drop him before he could get away with the muggle children he'd taken hostage."

"So go visit a Necromancer," Hermione said as she peered through the lens at Harry's scalp.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Harry moaned. "And I let you throw a Depilatorus at me."

"Is that why you're looking so neat and tidy?" Ginny swiped at his fuzzy new growth, but Harry blocked her with a slash of his hand. 

"It is rather flattering, Harry," Hermione set the magnifier down.

"Yeah?" Harry turned to look at her cockeyed. "You think I'm looking rather fit with my buzzed hair and my bloody horns?"

"Well obviously not the horns," she circled around back to her chair. "And by the way, they're not horns. They're antlers."

"How can you tell?" Harry reached up to touch the base where they seamlessly met his scalp.

"They're covered in deer velvet," she said. "And they're starting to branch."

"They are?" Harry leapt up from the table and ran to the mirror in the loo. He stared at the elongated growths in horror as he confirmed that, yes, the tips had split into two small mini-horns. Antlers. Whatever. "Why is this happening?" he cried. "Hermione, you have to do something!"

"Come sit on the sofa," she waved him over to the living room and sat, patting the cushion beside her. He obediently followed and sat before her in total supplication. He didn't care what she did, as long as the blasted things disappeared.

"Let me see your hands," she inspected his fingers all the way down to his nails. "Let me see your feet."

Ron made a fuss as Harry kicked off his boots and peeled off his socks. Harry told him to fuck off, they didn't smell that bad. Hermione politely said nothing as she peered at his toes and the balls of his feet.

"Are you walking any differently?" she asked. "Has your balance shifted?"

"No," he glanced at Ron. "Am I walking any differently?"

"Not that I've noticed," Ron shrugged. 

"How about hair?" Hermione asked. "Are you growing hair where you shouldn't?"

"How would I know?" Harry glared at Ron. "It's only just beginning to grow back in."

"Watch it," Hermione seized Harry's left horn and held him steady. "You caught my hair."

"Sorry," Harry peeked up over the rim of his glasses as she held him with one hand and untangled herself with the other.

"Look at how docile he is," Ginny grinned. "Noted for future reference."

"So what do you think?" Harry ignored his ex-girlfriend's jab. "Can you get rid of them?"

"I don't know of anything specific to horns or antlers," she went to the bookcase and traced her finger across a row of bindings. "There's one I can think of," she trailed off as she thumbed through a tome and read carefully.

"Depiliantlerus!" She pointed her wand and knocked Harry over with an unexpected spell. He rolled off of the sofa and hit the floor hard. 

"Hermione!" he shouted. "Isn't that the same spell that Ron used? If I'm bald again I swear to Merlin--"

"It's a derivation of the same spell," she slapped the book closed and shoved it back onto the shelf. "Anyway, it didn't work. It just removed the velvet."

Harry's hands shook as he raised them to touch his horns, which were now as hard and smooth as bone. He groaned and climbed back onto the sofa. 

"I have an idea," Ron squeezed in between Harry and Hermione and tossed his arm around her shoulders. Ginny dropped onto the beanbag chair that was a leftover from their muggle-themed housewarming party last spring. Positioned directly in front of their small Christmas tree, it looked as though branches were sprouting from her head. Too bad they weren't. Misery loves company. 

"Your last idea left me bald," Harry said. He shifted on the cushion to angle his head so he wouldn't poke Ron's eye out. 

"It's just bone, right?" Ron looked to Hermione for confirmation. "And you said they don't hurt," he turned back to Harry. "Why not just saw them off?"

"No!" Harry leaped up from his seat. "Are you mad?"

"Make up your mind, do you want horns or not?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Not!" Harry grabbed his jacket. "Look, I'm late for my appointment with the Ministry Healer. Firecall me if you think of anything that doesn't involve hacking me to pieces."

And with that he Disapparated.

Without his hat. 

He arrived in the waiting room of the Department of Magical Maladies and Wizard Health Services office just half a second before he realized his error. The instant his feet felt solid ground he threw his coat over his head and peeked out to see if anyone had noticed him.

To his utter dismay none other than Rita Skeeter was sitting in a chair near an enchanted bowlless fish tank with a copy of Witch Weekly in her hands. She looked up and pursed her lips, then smiled acidly.

"My my, Mr. Potter," she said. "What are you hiding under there? Growing a second head to contain your ego, perhaps?"

"Shit," was the most intelligent comeback he could think of. He decided in an instant to skip his appointment and Disapparated straight back to Hermione and Ginny's place.

"Hello!" he called. "I'm just getting my hat. The wards weren't set so..."

They must have left right after he did, because there was no answer. He peered into the kitchen and spotted his Rastafarian tam on the table, right where he had left it. How stupid to leave it behind. He was lucky he'd remembered his coat, otherwise he could have ended up on the front page of the Daily Prophet, horns and all.

_Potter Problem: Horny Hero Healthy?_

Come on, the Prophet's headlines aren't that bad.

He retrieved his hat and stretched it between his fingers, grimly aware that it wouldn't be big enough for much longer. He wondered if it was too late to start shopping for a tophat.

"Now!"

Someone tackled him from behind, seizing his horns like handlebars and hugging their legs around his waist. He staggered back beneath the weight, then reared forward to catch his balance. His attacker wrenched hard on his left horn and pulled him around in a circle, then squeezed his middle with their knees, sending him stumbling into the living room. 

Ron stood at the coffee table, saw in hand, his expression drawn and tense. Hermione hovered in the doorway of the master bedroom with her hands clasped to her mouth, eyes brimming with tears. 

"Yeehaw!" Ginny hollered in his ear in a poorly accented Yankee twang. "Ride 'em cowboy!"

"Get off of me!" Harry tried to pry her hands free, but she had leverage and could now steer him anywhere she wanted to go.

"Kneel," she ordered. "Put your head down on the table."

"We shouldn't be doing this," Hermione whimpered.

"Down on the table," Ginny wrenched his head again and squeezed hard. "We're at least going to make hats fit again."

"Ginny!" Harry wheeled his arms and toppled over, spilling her onto the floor and banging his shoulder on the table.

Ginny scrambled to her feet and threw herself across his back again, and with a swift kick she was up and over, sprawled across him and guiding his head to the tabletop. 

"That's enough!" Hermione cried. "Ron! Stop!"

"He's fine," Ron called. "You're fine, aren't you, Harry?" He planted his hand on the side of Harry's head and braced the saw against the hard bone of his right antler. 

"My glasses! My glasses!" Harry shouted, flailing his arms at the determined girl who pinned him down. 

"Here," Ginny yanked his glasses off of his face and cast them aside. "Do it, Ron."

"Don't hurt him!" Hermione yelled.

Harry wondered why she wasn't intervening if she was so distressed. Then he heard a pair of words erupt from her lips that gave him hope.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she shouted.

 _Oh thank Merlin, now get the hell off of--_ Belatedly Harry realized his error. She hadn't thrown a body bind at her future husband and sister-in-law, she'd thrown a body bind at him. He was frozen, unable to struggle or free himself, not even to cry or curse. And Ron was beginning to cut. 

The sound was horrific, loud and grinding, and it was impossible to pretend it wasn't the sound of something being excised from his skull. His already blurry vision vibrated and his teeth clacked together, just mobile enough to make the entire sensation that much more unbearable.

And it hurt. Not the sawing part, that was reasonably pain free. But his head was mashed between Ron's palm and the oak tabletop, and that was actually quite agonizing. He screamed inside of his mind, trying to find a mental escape from the awfulness. But in the end he just had to bear it.

The first horn snapped free and clattered to the floor. As one, Ginny and Ron flipped him over and went after the other side. Finally they both stepped back and nodded for Hermione to release the curse. 

Harry felt mobility return to his limbs and he gasped for breath as the pent-up adrenaline coursed through him. His arms and legs were weak and trembling, his hands shook visibly as he raised them to his head to feel what had been done. Beneath his fingers the jagged edges of the cut told him it wasn't the most cosmetic job in the world, and the knuckle-length knots told him it wasn't enough to be able to go hat-free again. But at least they could be covered up now. 

He found his glasses on the floor beside him and slipped them over his face. Ron looked stern. Hermione looked guilty. Ginny was grinning ear to ear.

"Fuck you guys," Harry grumbled as he wobbled to his feet.

"Oh come on," Ginny said. "I'll ask Mum to knit you a new hat. But you're going to want to file down those edges first."

"I'm leaving," Harry swept his Rastafarian tam off of the table and glared at them one more time before Disapparating for home.


	4. Chapter 4

"RON! GET IN HERE NOW!"

Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror, horror reducing his vocabulary to monosyllabic utterances. A thump from the other room told him that his roommate had been fast asleep, and that he was up and moving before his brain was in gear. 

"What is it? What happened?" Ron stumbled into the hall and nearly fell into Harry's bedroom. "Oh fuck. Oh Merlin. Oh fucking Merlin."

"Look what happened!" Harry waved his hands helplessly at his head, where a full set of branching antlers grew majestically from his skull. 

"Nice rack?" Ron winced apologetically. 

"I'm a ten-point fucking stag!" Harry screeched. "This is all your fault!"

"How is this my fault?" Ron demanded, eyes fixated on the anomalous growths on his best mate's head. 

"They were only as long as my hand yesterday," Harry shouted as though it were obvious. "They grew back overnight, and then some." He paced back and forth, the strange weight of the unfamiliar horns dragging his head to the side every time he turned. "Plus, if you hadn't been so quick with the Unforgivable maybe that wizard would still be here to give us the counter-curse!"

"Oh right, and if I hadn't perhaps he would have made off with those muggle children," Ron shot back. "But at least you'd still be able to comb your hair."

They snarled at each other, one accusing and the other defensive. Ron turned on his heel and stalked to the kitchen, where he clattered around in the cupboard for a teacup. Harry followed, clipping an antler on the door frame and ricocheting back a step before he angled his head and made it through on the second try. 

He slumped onto the sofa and rubbed his neck. He had woken up with his head tilted at an awkward angle, since lying on his side was now impossible and the size of the full rack made lying on his back uncomfortable.

"Have you checked your hands and feet?" Ron asked, his tone clipped and irritable. 

"Yes."

"No changes?"

"No."

"No hair?"

"No."

"No tail?"

"Of course not, don't be daft."

"I'm only trying to--"

"Well stop trying to--"

"Firecall for Associate Auror Ronald Weasley," a soft female voice came from the Floo. "Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt calling."

"I'm here," Ron tugged at his undershirt and pajama trousers. Harry knew that he was checking for morning wood, a chronic and no longer amusing problem that Ron had been living with since fourth year. Which meant Harry had been living with it, too, much to his dismay. 

"Weasley," Kingsley's face appeared in the embers of the fireplace. His eyes flicked to Harry on the sofa and widened in surprise. "I suppose that answers my question quite neatly. Weasley, since Potter's condition has not improved you're being reassigned to a new partner today. Potter, you're on paid administrative leave until you are cleared by the Department of Magical Maladies."

"But sir--"

"No buts," Kingsley's tone was uncompromising. "I can't have you on duty in your condition."

"Yes sir," Harry flopped his head back and bonked his antlers on the wall.

Kingsley ended the call, Ron got ready for work, and soon enough Harry was left on his own with nothing to do but ponder his predicament. He could just see the headlines now.

_Boy Hero Gone Stag!_   
_Harry's Horns: Full Spread Inside_   
_Potter Pickle: Who Has Antler Answers?_

Terrible. 

There was only one thing to do. He had to go see Hermione again and beg her for help. Even if it meant wrestling Ginny off of his back again, even if she was waiting with a harness and a bridle and-- oh Merlin he hoped Ginny wasn't home. 

He snatched his invisibility cloak off of the back of the door, tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, and stepped through, hoping against hope that Hermione wasn't hosting company.

Fortunately she was sitting on the sofa drinking tea and reading a book, and double-fortunately Ginny didn't seem to be around. Unfortunately his appearance was so startling that she jumped at the sight of him and spilled her tea down the front of her jumper.

"Holy hell, Harry!" she yelped. 

That sounded like a Daily Prophet headline in the making.

"I know," he said apologetically. 

"We need to get you to a specialist, now," she ran to her room, changed clothes without closing the door, because what did Harry care, and returned to the living room for her coat. "Put that on," she nodded to the invisibility cloak. "We're going to have to go outside."

Harry was glad for the cloak's generous sizing. He needed significantly more coverage now that he had extensive antlers sprouting from his head. He grasped her arm and side-alonged with her to Hogsmeade, where snow dusted the ground and the streets already looked like the Christmas season was in full swing. 

They walked down a narrow cobblestone road away from the town square, and when Hermione stopped before the fifth nondescript building on the right Harry was certain she was mistaken. There was nothing down here. 

"Come on," Hermione took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Harry wondered what she was so nervous about. Was this a necromancer's residence?

She rapped the brass knocker three times and stepped back down off of the stoop to wait for an answer. Harry kept a light grip on her arm and checked up and down the quiet street for signs of other people going about their business.

"I don't know if he's in," she murmured. "Harry, you're going to have to forgive me for this."

"For what?" He was instantly alarmed. "Where are you taking me?"

"He's a specialist Healer," she said, her voice doubtful now. "He's excellent at what he does. But he doesn't see just anyone. We'll have to hope he can--"

"Hermione, who are you talking about?" Harry squeezed her arm hard. 

Just then the door handle jiggled, then several locks disengaged, then the door swung open, revealing something that made Harry wish he was back at Hermione's flat fighting three Ginnys off of his back. It would be less agonizing than--

"Malfoy," Hermione said with tense politeness.

"Granger," Draco stood tall and lean in the doorway, his expression austere, dressed in a white jacket that was similar to a muggle doctor's coat. "How may I help you today? More centaur troubles?"

"No, they're fine," she took another nervous breath and tried to force a smile. "May I come in?"

"You may."

"May I bring a friend?"

"That depends. Where is said friend?"

"Right here," she poked Harry hard in the side and startled a grunt out of him. The poke brought him back to his senses. No. No way. No fucking way. 

"Hermione, I can't," he whispered urgently for her ears only. 

"Who are you smuggling around the streets of Hogsmeade, Granger?" Draco cocked his head and his stance became all the more languid. "I won't let anyone in my home unannounced."

"It's Harry," she said, then jumped as Harry jabbed her with an invisible poke in the ribs. "Stop it!"

"Don't make me do this, Hermione," he whispered furiously. "Please."

"Do you want it fixed or not?" she hissed back. 

Draco's expression was no longer casual, his posture no longer languid. He was alarmed, openly so. Harry was certain he didn't want any part of this, either.

"Let us in, please," Hermione begged. "I'll explain when we're inside."

"Is Potter in danger?" Draco asked. 

"No. Maybe," she gestured helplessly. 

"Fine, come in," Draco stepped aside. "But only because I'm morbidly curious."

Harry whined but allowed himself to be towed up the steps. The interior of the house was immaculately appointed, with sumptuous fabrics and ornate details. A perfectly decorated white and gold Christmas tree sat in the corner, not a needle out of place. It was the kind of place that Harry thought he would mess up if he spent more than a few seconds there. According to his memory of their school days, it seemed very Malfoyish.

Draco didn't ask them to sit, he led the way through the first floor to an examination room at the back, replete with its own en suite potions lab. As they entered a house elf appeared with tea service. Hermione pressed her lips together in disapproval but didn't go on a tirade about equal rights for magical creatures, which Harry thought was very mature of her. Even if he was still mad at her for bringing him to Draco Malfoy for help. 

"Reveal yourself, Potter," Draco folded his arms and waited. 

This was it. Harry was about to reveal his bloody horns to Draco Malfoy, the last person on earth he ever wanted to reveal anything to. But he was out of options. 

He slowly raised the invisibility cloak, all the while watching as Draco's expectant eyes tracked the rising hemline from his toes to his face. When he tried to toss the edge of the cloak over the top of his horns it tangled up in the forked points, leaving him half invisible. 

"What are you hiding under there?" Draco squinted. "Are you growing a second head to contain your ego?"

Harry swallowed a retort. Why should it surprise him that Malfoy and Rita Skeeter would come up with the same barb?

Hermione yanked hard on the cloak, wrenching Harry's head down and knocking him off balance, sending him tumbling head over heels and landing in a heap half-buried under the cloak.

"So far all I've been able to determine is that his legs are normal," Draco said with a frosty edge to his voice. 

Hermione pulled the cloak free and helped Harry to his feet. He stood in all of his antlered glory, hands on hips and jaw set, daring Draco to make a joke. 

Draco blinked. He coughed. He rubbed his nose. He coughed again. Then he turned to his desk and shuffled through a stack of parchments, all the while coughing and covering his mouth. 

"Are you laughing, you arsehole?" Harry growled.

"Of course not," Draco turned around, his expression composed but his cheeks flushed. "Laughing at a patient is against the Healer Code." He pointed at the examination table in the middle of the room and asked Hermione to wait in the parlor. 

"She can stay," Harry protested. For the love of Merlin, don't leave me alone with this prat.

"Healer-patient confidentiality," Draco shook his head. "Unless she's your sister or your spouse she has to wait outside. Healer Code."

Hermione assured Harry that he would be fine and exited, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Don't get any ideas," Harry said. "Just because I have horns, that doesn't mean you can get away with hexing me. I'm as fast as I ever was."

"Antlers," Draco turned to the tea service and poured two cups.

"Whatever."

"Not whatever, they're antlers," Draco pressed a teacup into Harry's hands. "Drink this, it will calm your nerves."

Harry took a sip and immediately felt his anxiety wick away. His shoulders unknotted, his stomach unclenched, and the weight of the antlers dragged on his head as his neck muscles softened. 

"Don't think you can take advantage of me by slipping me a potion," he said, taking another sip. 

"I'll have you know that I do quite well without drugging my dates," Draco set his cup down and lifted a small magnifying lens. "Please remove your clothes. You may keep your underpants."

"What is with you Healers and undressing people?" Harry set his cup on the exam table and pointed at the space above his head. "Can you not see that the problem is up here?"

"I need to check you for other symptoms," Draco said evenly, his clinical expression not wavering for a moment. 

"Fine," Harry kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt, then tossed it onto the floor. He yanked off his socks, grasped the hem of his undershirt, and hauled it up over his head, where it immediately became tangled in the forked spires of his antlers.

He struggled to free his arms and shoved at the soft cotton fabric, trying to stretch the neck hole wide enough to slide off, but the rack was just too wide. He grunted and pulled but it simply became more tangled in the ten pointed branches.

Draco watched Harry in bemusement until he finally stopped flailing and looked up for help. 

"This presents a very interesting question," Draco said. "How did you get that shirt on in the first place?"

"I slept in it and woke up with the horns," Harry said. "Ron sawed them off yesterday so I was able to change clothes. But they grew back like this overnight."

"You didn't change clothes this morning?" Draco curled his lip. 

"Everything but the undershirt."

"You let Weasley saw them off yesterday?"

"Yes but they grew back bigger overnight."

Draco sighed and shook his head in utter exasperation. He flicked his wand and the cotton t-shirt tore in a clean line down the middle and fell away. "Trousers. Off."

"Er," Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably and glanced down at his muggle blue jeans. "I can't."

"Don't tell me you've got antlers down there, too, Potter."

"No! It's just. I don't. When I wear blue jeans," Harry waved his hand to try to mime the words he was too reluctant to say. Draco waited and refused to fill in the blank. "I'm not wearing any underpants today. I don't wear underpants with jeans."

Draco turned back to his desk and coughed. He sipped his tea and apologized, and turned around with flushed cheeks again.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not laughing."

"It's a perfectly common thing to do."

"Indeed. Lie down and let me have a look." Draco blushed again. "I don't mean down there. Everywhere else."

Harry laid back on the cold wooden exam table with his antlers hanging off of the edge, not one bit comforted by the thin sheet that protected the surface. Draco moved his teacup to the desk and circled once, looking him over silently. 

Harry tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. He wasn't embarrassed by his body, in fact he was quite confident in his physique, now that he was on the mandatory physical training regimen that all Aurors were tasked with. His muscles were toned but not bulky, and he had been told by more than one bloke that his shoulders and biceps were "to die for."

He looked up at Draco's thoughtful face and pondered how vulnerable he was. He remembered that terrible moment in sixth year when he had gutted his rival with a rash Sectumsempra and was keenly aware of how exposed his belly was at that moment. It had been nearly ten years, but revenge was an ember that could smolder for decades.

Draco stopped his pacing and stood above Harry's head, and he could feel the other man's eyes boring into his skull. Then a gentle hand parted the short hairs where the protrusions emerged from his scalp. Harry couldn't help it, his eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

Draco's fingers ruffled over the new growth as he examined both sides, then trailed down his ears, his brow, his cheekbones, the saddle of his nose, his jaw. Then they moved on, checking his neck and shoulders, down each arm to his hands, spending extra time kneading the muscles of his palms and checking the flex of his fingers. Then he was back to Harry's well-toned chest, fingertips trailing the hard outline of muscles down to his abdomen, which quivered beneath the feathery light touch. Then Draco moved to his feet and hefted each one to inspect his shins, ankles and toes. Finally he was done and stepped back to regard Harry silently for a moment. 

Harry opened his eyes and gazed down the length of his body at the blond man in the white coat. Between the tea and the examination he felt as relaxed as he would after a full body massage.

"Roll over," Draco said softly.

Harry blushed furiously. His taste for bottoming had made that phrase instantly erotic and he was glad for the excuse to conceal the bulge in his trousers. He folded his arms beneath his head, angled himself so his antlers dangled off of the edge of the table, and waited.

Draco started at his head again, tracing his scalp through his shorn hair and then running lightly down his neck to his back. He spent some time feeling around Harry's vertebrae, then paused as he arrived at the waistband of Harry's jeans.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um," he hesitated. "I need to examine," he paused again. "Please unbutton your trousers and lower them just a bit. I don't need much."

"Um," Harry was equally uncomfortable. He was extremely turned on from the touching and he was worried about what would happen if Draco touched him there, beneath his trousers. 

"I'm just looking to see if there is any sign of tail development," Draco's voice firmed, losing the soft self-consciousness of a moment ago.

Harry reached underneath himself and quickly unbuttoned. He grazed his thumb across the bulge of his cock and wished he could do something about it. Instead he would have to settle for pinning it between his body and the cold, hard table and hope it was unsatisfying enough to deflate the problem. 

Draco hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans and slid them down just to the crest of his buttocks. He leaned in close with the magnifying lens and ran his fingers across Harry's tailbone. Harry could feel his breath on his skin, soft and warm and close. This only served to make his problem worse. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and reminded himself that this was Draco Malfoy. Draco sodding Malfoy. Not a mate, nor a date. Malfoy.

Finally Draco crossed to the desk and set his magnifying glass down. He leafed through a stack of parchments, then excused himself to the potions lab. Harry seized the opportunity to sit up, button his trousers, and slip his shirt on. The shirt tail would at least conceal enough of his erection to avoid further embarrassment. 

"Well," Draco came back into the room with a set of tomes in his hands. "Im not quite sure what you've been cursed with. It's not a transfiguration, even a slow one would show manifestations elsewhere on your body by now. It's not an accidental Animagus, that's for certain. You've not turned into a weredeer, which is a relief given how daft that would be," he looked up. "Not that I would put anything that daft past you, Potter."

"Thanks," The rest of Harry's erection evaporated in response to Draco's insult. 

"Polyjuice?" Draco looked up as though struck by a thought. "If you've polyjuiced recently and a stray stag hair got in there--"

"I haven't polyjuiced in ages," Harry said. "Aurors have other ways of concealing our identities."

"Oh that's right, Golden Boy is an Auror now," Draco went back to his books. "Let me have a look at your eyes."

Harry raised his glasses to the top of his head, where the bows rested neatly against the base of his horns. The room was blurry but as Draco moved in closely his face pulled into focus. His pale gray eyes flicked across Harry's face before staring at him directly. He raised a tiny magnifier and peered into Harry's left eye, then his right. He frowned and pulled back slightly, looking back and forth at each side.

"What in bloody blazes happened to all of your hair?" he demanded. "You've got new growth everywhere. Even your eyelashes."

"Ron threw a Depilatorus at me," Harry said. Draco was still close, watching him with those disconcertingly pale eyes. 

"And why would the Weasel want you bald?"

"He thought it would remove the horns."

"Antlers."

"Whatever."

"So far you've let him fry off your hair and put a saw to your skull," Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's next, a Decapitoria? Feel like letting him lop off your head?" He reached out and grasped Harry's chin to hold him steady under scrutiny.

"Oh piss off," Harry reflexively seized his wrist and wrenched his hand away.

"Harry I-- Oh," Hermione poked her head through the door and drew up short. 

Harry knew what it looked like. He was sitting on the edge of the exam table, shirt buttoned only halfway up, Draco standing between his knees with their faces close together, his wrist clasped in Harry's grip.

Or rather, he knew what it would look like if he wasn't in a Healer's office and that healer wasn't Draco bloody Malfoy. Hermione had a lot of nerve acting like there was anything to say "oh" about. 

"I have to go," she stammered on. "Ron's stakeout was cancelled so he wants to meet for lunch. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Harry released Draco's wrist and dropped his glasses over his eyes. "I've got my cloak."

"Good day, Granger," Draco went back to the books on his desk. 

Hermione mouthed an apology and departed, closing the door behind her again. 

"She's still dating the Weasel," Draco said as he flipped through his books.

"Yes."

"How about you? Still dating the Weaselette?"

"No."

"I'll need to ask you some personal questions," Draco turned with a clipboard and an absurdly ornate feather quill.

"Why not, you've already inspected my arse," Harry grumbled. 

"Harry James Potter. Age, twenty-five," Draco said mostly to himself as he filled out the form. "Birthday, July thirty-first--"

"You know my birthday?" Harry narrowed his eyes. There were spells that relied on numerology, but if Draco was planning on using one--

"The Daily Prophet has published birthday wishes to you every year since your birth," Draco sneered. "As is typical, everyone is obligated to care about your life, but you're under no obligation to care in return."

"That's not fair, I care about--"

"Blood status, half-blood. Known non-human bloodlines?" Draco looked up with his quill poised. 

"None that I know of," Harry said, annoyed that Draco hadn't let him defend himself. "Although I am a Parselmouth so maybe there something I don't know."

"That was old Voldie's doing," Draco muttered as he marked the parchment. "That's not blood."

"Old Voldie?" Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Pardon me, did I not speak respectfully of the dead?" Draco's eyebrows mirrored Harry's. "Any known diseases, maladies, curses, hexes, prophecies?"

"I've got this of course," Harry pointed at his lightning bolt shaped scar. "Nothing else since the Voldemort prophecy. As far as I know I'm a free man."

"Speaking of which," Draco moved down the page. "Marital status. Married, single, dating, or divorced?"

"Single," Harry braced himself for an insult. _Of course you're single, Potter. Everyone knows you stink. Very funny, Malfoy._

But Draco moved on without comment. "Sexual preference?" Draco didn't look up from the page. "Hetero, homo, bi, a, pan?"

"What?" Harry shook his head. "What's a?"

"Assexual. Non-sexual."

"Definitely not," Harry laughed. "What's pan?"

"Everything-sexual."

"Just write down, um," Harry hesitated. "You're sure the Healer Code says you can't laugh or share this information with anyone?"

"I'm sure."

"Not even Rita Skeeter."

"Let it go, Potter. Answer the question."

"Homo," Harry's face flushed. He waited for Draco to turn to his desk, to shuffle through his parchments and cough. But instead he moved on. 

"Do you use protection?"

"For what?"

"Merlin," Draco passed his palm across his eyes. "For sex, Harry Potter. For sex."

"Oh. Yes."

"When was the last time--"

"Why are you asking me all of these sex questions?" Harry demanded. "Maybe you're a poofter too, and this is how you go about getting dates."

Draco slowly lowered his clipboard and leveled a gaze at Harry. When he spoke his voice was low and even, but his pale gray eyes darkened like the sky before a storm. 

"There is a possibility that a sexually transmitted curse is the cause of your problem," he said. "Identifying the type of partner you prefer and the timing of your most recent encounters could help me narrow down a cure. Unless you don't want me to do so. Perhaps you like the prospect of changing your name to Rudolph and pulling Santa's sleigh this Christmas Eve."

"It's been a while," Harry said. "Let's just leave it at that. There's no way it was sexually transmitted."

"How long? These things can lie dormant for weeks."

"More than a few weeks."

"Potter, I'm trying to help--"

"Eight months, okay?" Harry dropped his face into his hand, and Draco had to leap back to avoid losing an eye.

"Eight months," Draco scratched the number down with his quill. He was quiet for a moment. "Fucking hell, Potter, maybe those aren't antlers. Maybe they're from the pressure of all of the backed-up cum forcing its way out of your skull."

"Malfoy," Harry glared at him. "How is that not against the Healer's Code?"

"You're right, my apologies," Draco pulled himself up straight and raised his chin. "But as a Healer I recommend you get laid soon before you burst."

"Oh yeah," Harry reached up and tugged on his rack. "You think this is going to get me some action?"

"Well," Draco cocked his head. "It is mating season."

"Okay," Harry hopped down and buttoned his shirt the rest of the way. "This has been great but it's time to go."

"I've got a potion I'd like to try," Draco followed him to the door. "Come back tomorrow around one."

"Fine," Harry tossed his cloak around himself and clutched it tightly under his chin. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Oh, and Potter," Draco called as Harry stepped out onto the stoop. "Be a dear and close the door behind you." He grinned toothily, clearly pleased with his pun.

"Goddamnit, Malfoy," Harry slammed the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Staying inside was boring. Boring boring boring. Harry was in complete agony. He had tidied up his bedroom, then tried to clean out his closet until his antlers became too entangled in hanging clothes to make the effort worthwhile. He cooked a pot of noodles and realized afterwards that he had nothing to put on them, so he doused them in soy sauce, declared the batch too salty, and binned the lot of it.

Ron returned from work with Hermione by his side around seven. They had predicted Harry's isolation and brought curry takeaway from his favorite shop. They let him have the sofa and sat together in the easy chair by the telly, kind enough not to mention that his antlers were too wide to share the sofa anymore, but it went without saying. 

"So how was Malfoy?" Ron asked casually as he flipped through programmes on the telly. Hermione and Harry had thoroughly corrupted him with muggle technology.

"Okay, I guess," Harry said around a mouthful of chicken. "He's still a prat but he's sort of almost normal. Almost professional."

"Almost like he's matured," Hermione said. "Imagine that."

"He's not that mature," Harry shook his head, calling his attention back to the weight on his head. "He made more than one joke at my expense."

"If he hadn't I would suspect he was possessed," Ron said. "I make jokes at your expense all the time. And I've matured, haven't I?"

"That's different," Harry tossed his empty curry container onto the table. "It's different when you take the piss as a mate, not when you're an..."

"You were going to say enemy," Ron said. "Weren't you?"

"Of course not. Malfoy was never important enough to be my enemy."

"What, then?" Hermione asked. "Rival?"

"Yes. No. I don't know," Harry thought hard. "He was my childhood enemy."

"He's changed," Hermione said. "I didn't want to go to him either but he does work other Healers won't touch. You noticed he was wearing a white doctor's coat instead of a green Healer's coat. He specializes in really complicated stuff that takes difficult potion work. And he works with intelligent non-humans. Who would have expected that?" She shrugged, "He hasn't called me mudblood even once."

"He's already called me Golden Boy," Harry grouched.

"Oh no, call the Wizengamot!" Ron gasped in mock-horror. 

"Look, I don't care, as long as he can make these things go away," Harry yanked on the left antler. "I have to go back tomorrow at one to try out a potion."

"Make sure he knows you're connected," Ron said. "If he bollockses up your treatment we could have the Minister on his back in an instant."

"I think he knows that," Harry sighed. "It's part of what he hates about me."

"He probably doesn't hate you anymore," Hermione said. "It's been years."

"Of course he still hates me," Harry said. "He's never had a reason not to."

*********************************

After hours of mindless telly Harry finally turned in before cabin fever could drive him insane. But once he laid in his bed he realized he had a problem. He couldn't lay on his side, he couldn't lay on his back. He couldn't lay on his stomach and breathe unless he turned his head to the side, which just presented the same problem. He tried laying with his head dangling off of the foot of the bed, but found that the weight of the antlers dragged him back, straining his neck painfully. 

He tried sitting up and leaning against the wall but he had to slump his head forward to accommodate the rack, straining his neck in a different but equally painful way.

When he heard Ron and Hermione retire to the other bedroom he crept out to the couch and spent thirty minutes building a reinforced pillow fort so he could sleep sitting upright. It worked, but he had no wiggle room. It meant he had to hold one position all night. By morning he was a wad of grumpy resentment and neck pain. 

"Morning," Hermione had always been too much of an earlybird. Harry's eyes creaked open like rusty hinges and he gave her the full weight of his baleful, bloodshot stare.

"Yikes, what happened to you?" Ron flinched as Harry swung his glare around to focus on his flatmate.

"I can't sleep like this," his voice was dry and raspy. He unkinked his arms and legs and arched his back to crack it, and managed to thunk his antlers into the wall behind him, rattling his teeth and raising his ire. 

"What time are you due back at Malfoy's," Hermione sat beside him and patted his hand. 

"One."

"I'll bring you breakfast and something for lunch. Go have a shower," Hermione went briskly to the fireplace and waved him towards the loo. "Go now."

"Sod off," Harry grumbled. "Thank you."

He slid the glass shower door closed and stood sideways, paranoid that he would shatter the enclosure with one shake of his head. He shampooed carefully around the bony growths, then shaved his face and rinsed down. He usually felt more human when he was clean. These days he didn't feel human enough. 

Hermione was true to her word and had left two packed meals on the table, one marked "breakfast" and one marked "lunch." She had even left a small packet of biscuits with a label that read "tea." He felt like a right bastard for telling her to sod off earlier. 

More muggle telly helped pass the hours, and during adverts he plumbed his memory for clues to the spell the dark wizard had cast on their last case. He felt like if he concentrated hard enough he could almost hear it, but his memory was mostly filled with the sound of his own spell, "Expecto Patronum."

He wondered if he could force the memory to the surface. He stood and shook his wand into his hand and closed his eyes. Deep breath, solid focus, happy memory, and swish. "Expecto Patronum," he called.

A white light guttered and sputtered at the tip of his wand, and then drifted lifelessly to the floor. He frowned and tried again. Breath, focus, happy, swish. "Expecto Patronum!" he called.

White light gobbed out of his wand and spattered to the floor before dissipating. One more try. Breath, whatever, swish, "Expecto Patronum!"

His wand might as well have made a flatulent blat as the light fizzled and failed once again. He shook his wand like it might be stopped up, levitated a few objects, and cast Lumos Maxima. It seemed to be functioning fine. It was his Patronus that wouldn't play along.

A glance at the clock told him he'd better get a move on if he wanted to rid himself of his cranial curse. He swirled his invisibility cloak around his shoulders and checked the mirror to make sure he'd covered everything. Wouldn't do to hear reports of a pair of disembodied antlers floating down Main Street of Hogsmeade. Satisfied that he was concealed, he Disapparated for Draco Malfoy's house.

Three raps on the brass knocker, he remembered. Who knew if the number or method of knocking mattered. But he remembered that Draco was big on respect, and on the off chance that knocking was a strange pureblood respect issue, he figured he'd stick with what he knew. The door handle jiggled, the locks rattled, and finally the door swung open, spilling warm golden light out into the dim December afternoon.

'Harry Potter, I presume," Draco leaned languidly in the doorway, eating an apple like he hadn't a care in the world. His white Healer's jacket hung open, and his feet were clad in nothing but black woolen socks.

"Who else would it be, you git?" Harry snapped. "Are you expecting any other invisible patients today?"

"I never expect anything," Draco stepped aside and waved Harry in. "Expectations lead to surprises and disappointment."

"Charming," Harry pushed past him and waited until the door was closed and locked again before sweeping the cloak off. As the day before, it tangled up in his antlers and refused to come free. Draco clenched the apple in his mouth as he reached up to help free the fabric, reminding Harry of a platter at a pig roast. Draco caught him looking and crossed his eyes above the apple core, in an uncharacteristic display of whimsy.

Harry stepped back, now free from his cloak, and found himself at a loss for what to say. Had Draco just joked around with him? Where was the precedent for that?

"Come on, the potion's ready," Draco waved for Harry to follow him into the examination room, then pointed for him to sit on the table. "Forgive my stocking feet, I was up late brewing and I need a break from my shoes."

"Okay," Harry was still at a loss. What kind of nutter needed a break from his shoes?

"It's a paste," Draco said as he returned with a tiny cauldron and a spatula. "It's usually used for taxidermy preparation, when hunters want to mount the skull and antlers separately. It should remove the antlers and leave enough behind for a complete skull."

"Should?" Harry wrapped his hands protectively around the base of his horns. "Should leave enough behind for a complete skull? Are you mad?"

"You know what I mean," Draco said. He leveled an even gaze at Harry, dropping the casual air and returning to the professional reserve he'd shown the day before. "I tested it on my own skin. It won't hurt flesh. It should, rather it will dissolve through the bone of the antlers and leave living tissue behind."

"You're sure?" Harry wasn't yet ready to let go of his head. "You tested it on yourself?"

"I'm sure," Draco held out his arm. "Look at my wrist, it's fine."

"Well," Harry considered his options. Nope, still none. "I guess we can try it."

"Hold still," Draco hefted the cauldron and scooped a bit of the gray paste with the spatula. "It's going to be cold."

Harry tipped his head forward for better access. Fortunately Draco anticipated the movement and ducked out of the way. He dabbed the sticky goo all around the base of the antlers, getting it mashed through Harry's hair and smeared onto his scalp.

Harry had nowhere to look while Draco worked. He perched on the edge of the table and peeked up at Draco's intense expression of concentration as he worked the paste in, the tip of his tongue held lightly between his teeth as he went. His pale blond hair was combed neatly back, with the forelock tucked just behind his ear. He showed no affinity for his father's preference for showy jewelry, not an earing nor a necklace nor a ring adorned his body. His shirt collar was unbuttoned and spread wide, revealing a vee of milky white skin that stood out in sharp contrast against his navy blue sweater vest. His skin was so pale that his white Healer jacket was the only thing in the room that was paler--

"What?" Draco glanced down and retracted the tip of his tongue. "Does it hurt? Don't tell me Saint Potter can't handle a little deossification ointment."

"I'm fine," Harry snapped out of it. He shuddered, the tiny shiver in his neck translating to a full wobble of his antlers. Draco jumped back and shouted in protest. "Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"It needs some time to sit," Draco said. "If you'll return to the parlor I'll come check on you in an hour."

"An hour?" Harry's jaw dropped. "I can't just sit in your bloody parlor for an hour!"

"You can go home and wait it out," Draco shrugged. "But I don't recommend it. You don't want to get this stuff on anything."

"You're right," Harry said. "Of course something that's okay to be smeared on my head would be dangerous to anything else."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither one willing to offer up an alternate suggestion. Finally Harry held out his arms, "Do you want to do another examination? Make sure it's not spreading?"

"No," Draco turned away and shuffled with the parchments on his desk. "I got enough information yesterday."

It didn't take a Head Auror to know that when Draco busied himself with his papers, he was covering up an emotional reaction. If he was laughing again, for Merlin's sake--

"It's almost time for tea, if you'd like to join me in the lounge," Draco turned back around, his cheeks a bit pink.

"Well that's a damn sight better than doing nothing in the parlor," Harry hopped to his feet and followed Draco out of the examination room, up a flight of stairs, where he managed to sweep three framed photographs off of the stairwell wall, and into a cozy and comfortably appointed sitting room.

This space was much more appealing than the ostentatious parlor on the first floor. This room had leather club chairs and downy throw pillows and soft cashmere blankets and deep wooden shelves covered in interesting knickknacks from around the world. In other homes Harry would have assumed the worldly objects were collected from a local importer. Given the Malfoy family's wealth, it seemed likely that these items had been collected personally from their places of origin.

"Have a seat," Draco pointed to a chair with no lamps within striking distance. He then sat gracefully on the sofa and leaned back with his ankle crossed over his knee. He watched Harry warily but did not speak.

"So," Harry cleared his throat. It was impossible to pretend he didn't look completely daft with his head full of horns and a smearing of batter around the base. "It's been, what, six years?" A house elf wheeled a rosewood tea cart into the room and began placing cups and saucers on the coffee table.

"Since what?" Draco asked. "Since the war? Since my father went to prison? Since you and I last saw each other? Which one?"

"All of it, I guess," Harry shrugged.

"Six years," Draco shrugged back. They stared at each other silently again.

"What have you been doing since then?" Harry asked.

"Does this not adequately explain?" Draco plucked at his white Healer jacket.

"No," Harry gritted his teeth and swallowed a sharper retort. Why was he making it so hard? He'd been almost friendly when Harry first arrived.

"After old Voldie kicked off and my father lost out in the trials, I left home," Draco said as the house elf handed him a teacup and saucer. "I traveled around the world for a year, sort of vacationed in non-wizard societies, I suppose. Just wanted to see what all of the fuss was about."

"You?" Harry paused with his teacup halfway to his lips.

"Yes me," Draco glared. "In spite of what you and your cronies thought, I was never irredeemable. I was," he looked up at the ceiling in search of the right word, "ignorant," he finished. "Try not to begrudge me the effort to shed my ignorance," he went back to glaring at Harry.

"So," Harry gestured for him to continue.

"I saw things,' Draco said vaguely. "I saw sick people. I decided I wanted to be a Healer."

"That simple?"

"No," Draco sipped his tea. "But that's all I feel like sharing."

"So what about this practice?" Harry noticed the plate of biscuits on the table and snatched one.

"I run it on my terms," Draco said. "I only accept patients I want to work with."

"Does that mean you want to work with me?"

"Don't be daft," Draco snorted. "I want to solve the mystery of the antlers. The fact that they're connected to your head is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant? Come on," Harry snorted back.

"You haven't asked how much I'm going to charge you," Draco reminded him. "I'm also in it for the money."

"Great," Harry shook his head. Then, feeling the weight of the antlers he shook his head again. "You're just lucky I'm willing to do whatever it takes to lose these things by Christmas."

Draco smirked but politely didn't comment.

Harry took a turn at sharing the ins and outs of his own past six years, although much of his professional transition had been captured for the public in the usual rags. He denied the rumor that he had given up an engagement with Ginny Weasley to take a promotion in the Auror's office, but stopped short of discussing the awkward first few years of sexual self-discovery and coming out to his friends. Yes, that was something that had taken place in the last six years, but no way was he sharing that with Draco Malfoy, Healer Code or not.

"Come on," Draco checked the clock on the mantle and headed down the stairs. "Let's have a look at the progress we've made."

They went back to the examination room and Harry sat obediently on the edge of the table. Draco wiped the glop away with a cloth and grunted thoughtfully. He guided Harry to lie down on the sheet and inspected closely with his magnifying lens.

"Grip the edge of the table," he said as he grasped Harry's left antler. He pressed his weight down and with a sickening snap that Harry could feel all the way down to his jaw, the antler broke free. Another lean and the right one snapped free, too. And just like that the awkward weight was gone.

"Malfoy!" Harry rocketed to his feet and staggered off balance. Draco caught him by the elbow and set him back on his feet. "Malfoy!" Harry shouted again and threw his arms around Draco's waist, then lifted him and spun him around before setting him down with a grunt. Probably not enough size difference for that.

Draco stumbled back and gawked at him in shock for just a brief second before straightening his shirt and jacket. He smoothed his expression over and squared his shoulders. "You'll need to shower as soon as you get home," he said. "Normal soap should remove the rest of the paste."

"You're amazing," Harry gushed, tipping his head this way and that and enjoying the lightness of his natural skull. "Not even the Ministry Healer could fix this."

"Chesterton Elroy Payne?" Draco sneered. "What that man doesn't know could fill Hogwarts' Great Hall. The man's name is Chest Pain, for Merlin's sake."

"Chest pain," Harry was suddenly struck giddy by this information. Between the removal of the antlers, and this absurd turn of conversation, he was lost in a gale of laughter.

"Potter," Draco half-laughed and then caught himself. "Potter, pull yourself together."

"Sorry," Harry wiped his eyes and tried to reel it in. "Sorry, sorry. I'm done."

"Well," Draco sniffed haughtily. "Try to show some dignity."

"I've got taxidermy goo in my hair and you're holding my antlers," Harry pointed. "Dignity went out the window ages ago."

"I'll be sure to send you my bill in the morning," Draco shooed Harry out of the examination room. "That ought to put a serious step in your stride."

"Thank you, Malfoy," Harry extended his hand with a bright smile. "You're brilliant. Really. Thank you. Draco."

"You're welcome," Draco took his hand and quickly released it. "Harry."

Harry tossed his invisibility cloak over his arm and let himself out. He threw his arms out wide on the stoop and made a big show of pointing to himself, as though drawing the attention of a hoard of invisible onlookers.

"Thank you again!" Harry called as he readied himself to Disapparate. He couldn't stop grinning. "I hope you have a happy Christmas!"

"Hey Potter," Draco called from the doorway. "Just one thing I need you to remember before you go."

"What's that?"

"You still stink." And then the door closed and the locks rattled, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the cobblestone road, alone and silent and blessedly horn-free.


	6. Chapter 6

"HERMIONE!"

The world flared green and whirled and then Harry was vomited out onto the hearth rug, startling Ginny into bolting for her room. 

"I'm not dressed!" she shouted. "Haven't you heard of calling first?"

"Hermione!" Harry scrambled to his feet and whirled around, sweeping the mantle clean of picture frames. "Where is she?"

"She left for work twenty minutes ago!" Ginny shouted back from her bedroom. "Have you gone mad?"

"Where's your owl? Take a letter," he struck a pompous pose as she came back into the room in a fresh t-shirt and slacks. "Dear Hermione, your brilliant idea was an utter failure. Thank you so much for making me look like a gullible prat in front of Draco fucking Malfoy. Yours truly, Harry the fucking ten-point stag. How does that sound?"

"Merlin, Harry," Ginny stared at his head. "Your rack is bigger than mine."

"Stuff it," he snapped. Unsatisfied by his dictation, he jumped back through the Floo to his flat, seized his invisibility cloak, and Disapparated for Hogsmeade. He skipped the knocker and rapping three times, and instead pounded his fist on the door and glared at the windows of the upper floors.

The handle jiggled and the locks rattled and the door swung open. Draco's pale blond hair was rumpled, his forelock no longer neatly tucked behind his ear, and his eyes were bloodshot. He wore a robe tied loosely over satin pyjamas.

"Potter?" he asked hesitantly. 

"Of course it's me!" Harry shouted. 

"Keep your voice down," Draco hushed him. "Do you want to wake the whole neighborhood?"

"I don't care!" Harry hollered, then ran up the steps and shoved past the other man.

Once inside he threw the cloak back, this time getting enough rage-fueled momentum behind the toss that it actually swept clear on the first try. Atop his head sat the large rack of antlers that he had erroneously assumed were gone forever.

"Bollocks," Draco said calmly. "Now don't panic, clearly we have to--"

"We nothing!" Harry shouted. "You clearly have no idea what you're doing. This is just like when they were sawed off. You can't just remove them you have to remove the cause."

"That's what I was about to say."

"Why does it need to be said?" Harry screamed. "You're the Healer! Cures are supposed to be your speciality!"

"Harry, calm down."

"Don't call me Harry! Don't talk to me like a mate! You probably did this on purpose because you're still hung up on our stupid school rivalry rubbish!" Harry was pacing now, and every time he spun on his heel Draco flinched and ducked. 

"Potter, it's a difficult spell and we don't yet know what--"

"You've always hated me!" Harry shouted over him. "You probably planned this to humiliate me! Too bad I was at home when they grew back instead of out in public where someone like Rita Skeeter could see me."

Draco's eyes darkened, and with a cat-like swipe he seized Harry's left antler and yanked his head down so he could speak directly into his ear.

"Are you questioning my integrity as a Healer?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Yes," Harry glared up at him sideways.

Draco released him, shoving him hard and sending him tumbling to the floor. "Get out."

"No!" Harry scrambled to his feet and marched to the examination room door. "You go in there and find me a cure! It's what you're charging me for, isn't it?"

"I'm not charging you anymore," Draco's voice refused to rise. He stood with his fists balled at his sides but allowed no anger to penetrate his expression beyond his eyes. "Now get out."

"So that's how it is, quitting already?" Harry asked. "How long did you spend mending that vanishing cabinet in sixth year? I suppose destroying the wizarding community was more important to you than healing the sick."

"Get out!" Draco's expression cracked. He seized Harry's collar, and dragged him towards the door. Harry hauled back with all of his might and tore free, lost his balance, and wheeled into the nearest wall, where the sharp tines of his left antler punctured a hole in the sheetrock. 

They both froze. Harry stared up through his eyebrows at the gash in the wall and Draco's shock slowly melted back into a stony, neutral mask.

"I'm sorry," Harry stammered. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to pull free from the jagged hole, but the hooked points of the antler hung up on the edges of the sheetrock, keeping him doubled over at the waist and pinned. 

Draco watched him struggle to free himself for a moment and then sighed. He crossed the room and gently pushed Harry's hands away so he could maneuver the spires free and release him from captivity. 

Harry was embarrassed. A small triangle of sheetrock still hung from one of his points. Draco reached up and slid it free, then tossed it onto the coffee table. 

"Just go," he sighed. 

Harry sheepishly scooped up his cloak and slunk to the door. He was confused. He should still be furious but instead he felt guilty. Why should he feel guilty? Draco was the one who had screwed up. So Harry had put a hole in his wall, that was nothing compared to Harry's prospects as a horned hero.

He grasped the door handle and paused. Finally he spoke up to try to assuage his guilt. "Sorry about your wall."

"Not your fault," Draco said, his voice low and dispassionate again. 

Harry swept the cloak over his head and walked outside. As the locks rattled behind him he realized the apology for the wall hadn't helped one bit. He still felt guilty, but he didn't know why.

***********************************

The metal examination table was cold beneath Harry's thighs. Once again he was stripped down to his skivvies so a healer could inspect a problem on top of his head.

The Ministry Healer, Chesterton Payne, _chest pain_ , Harry thought with a strange mix of amusement and guilt, gazed at him with thoughtful bemusement.

"And you say they've grown back overnight twice?" he asked. "You know, we could try a potion I've had in mind. It's a paste typically used in taxidermy--"

"No," Harry dropped his head back in exasperation and nearly toppled over from the shift in weight. "We thought of that."

"Who thought of that?"

"I talked to another Healer when you didn't have any answers," Harry said.

"And who pray tell did you think would know more than the Ministry Healer?" he folded his arms across his chest. _Chest pain_. Harry wanted to snicker again.

"Draco Malfoy," he said. "He's a former classmate of mine--"

"Oh I know who he is," the Ministry Healer sneered. "Young upstart thinks he can run a practice purely at his own whim. I'm surprised he was willing to see you at all."

"I only--"

"The young Master Malfoy has taken in a grand total of zero wizard cases since starting his practice three years ago," the Healer spoke over him.

"How does he--"

"Non-human patients. Werewolves. Veelas, Centaurs. Goblins." The healer spat each label with contempt. "He simply doesn't take human cases." He flipped through Harry's file. "And as we've established, you are fully human."

"Well," Harry said. "It's a rather intriguing case, isn't it?"

"I suppose," the Ministry Healer shrugged. "I find his practice suspect and discriminatory. If you're willing to trust yourself to that kind of care..."

Harry frowned. How was he meant to take that? So far Ministry Healer Chest Pain hadn't tried a thing. He hadn't even given Harry a thorough exam, just asked him to undress and then sat at his desk. At least Draco had checked him for other symptoms and tried a potion.

Trust himself to that kind of care? At least he'd provided care. 

"I want you to apply this poultice to your scalp every night for the next week," the Ministry Healer seemed to read his mind. "It should lift the horns by the roots and remove them completely."

"Antlers."

"Oh. Quite right."

Harry accepted the dense bundle of brown wrapping paper and twine and hefted it in his hands. How was this any different from the taxidermy paste or the saw? Wouldn't they just grow back in again? Was the Healer even paying attention?

"Come back and see me on Friday if it's not starting to improve."

Harry had no doubt that he would be in on Friday.

********************************

Three raps on the brass knocker, no more, no less. The handle jiggled, the locks rattled, and the door opened. Draco Malfoy blinked at the empty space at the bottom of his stoop and then sighed. 

"Potter?"

"Yes," Harry didn't know what to say. Well, he knew what to say. Obviously sorry was the thing to say. He just didn't know how to say it. How was hard. 

"What do you want?"

"I want to say I'm," he swallowed hard, "sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you."

"What else?" Apparently Draco didn't mind if his neighbors saw him talking to empty air. 

"I'm sorry for insulting you," Harry added. 

"What else?"

"I'm sorry for questioning your integrity as a Healer?" Harry's voice rose in a question. Surely that's what Draco was looking for.

"Damn straight," he nodded.

"Can I come in?"

"Potter," Draco braced his hands on his hips and bowed his head. Finally he waved his hand and stepped aside. 

Harry dropped the cloak as he entered and went straight to the wall he'd punctured. The repair job was good but he could see just a tiny zigzag crease from the patch. 

"It seems oddly fitting that the Boy who Lived would leave a lightning bolt shaped scar on my wall," Draco's said dryly. 

"I'm sorry about that, too," Harry ran his hand across the plaster. 

"As you've expressed multiple times," Draco said. "What can I do for you, Potter?"

"The Ministry Healer gave me this," Harry handed over the paper and twine bundle. "Chest pain," he grinned. 

"Indeed," Draco struggled to swallow a smirk. He settled his expression and went cold again. He unwrapped the bundle and frowned at the dense, sticky loaf inside, then sniffed it once and shook his head.

"He said to wear it for a week and come see him on Friday if it's not improving." 

"Have you made your Friday appointment yet?"

"No."

"Do it now," Draco said. "Because this won't fix it. This is a poultice to remove warts, corns, and calluses."

"Great."

"I told you he was useless," Draco wrapped the bundle up and handed it back. "Then again, you think I'm useless, too, so I suppose it doesn't matter much."

"Draco--"

"Oh so now I'm Draco," his eyes darkened again. The versatility of his eyes distracted Harry, making him forget that he was about to get an earful.

"Malfoy--"

"Your problem," Draco said. "Is that you don't know what was cast. So any Healer is going to have to make some educated guesses. How educated depends on the Healer."

"Will you accept me back as a patient?"

Draco stared at him with his neutral, blank expression. Harry remembered that mask. He'd started wearing it during sixth year, when family and duty and honor had put more strain on him than anyone deserved. Even a tosser like Draco Malfoy. 

"Please," Harry said. He reached up and grasped his antlers. "Don't leave me like this."

"Go see a Necromancer," Draco said. "Find out whatever you can about the curse and I'll decide if I can offer any more help."

"Okay," Harry's breath came out in a gust. He hadn't realized how badly he wanted Draco to agree. They stood there, staring at each other across the parlor, neither one sure what to do next. 

"Anything else?" Draco's cheeks pinkened.

"I, well," Harry held his hands out and cocked his head. "Do you think my hands look any different?"

"I'm not sure, I doubt it," Draco craned his neck but didn't move any closer. 

"Oh," Harry shoved them into his pockets. "You're right, I would have noticed."

Draco touched his bottom lip with his fingertips and gazed thoughtfully at his examination room door. He tipped his head slightly. "I should probably examine you to be sure," his voice came out softer than before. 

"Yes, that sounds right," Harry nodded quickly. He ducked and busied himself folding his cloak as Draco went to prep the table. Harry didn't know why his cheeks should be blushing or what he was hoping for. It would be a routine exam. It would confirm what he already knew, that the issue was confined to his head. But there was no reason not to confirm. Especially if it meant a lovely bit of touching.

He stood up quickly, knocking a lamp into a chair with one of his antlers. Where in Merlin's name had that thought come from?

"Are you coming?"

Harry shoved the thought aside and hustled into the examination room, knocking a wall sconce askew on his way in. He hopped onto the table and clasped his hands between his knees.

"Undress," Draco was pushing parchments around on his desk again. Harry unbuttoned his shirt and yanked off his socks. He then paused at his trousers. He was wearing boxers, but he was a little concerned that he might become aroused again by the contact and it would be much more visible than last time.

"You can keep them if you're more comfortable," Draco glanced over his shoulder. 

"I'm wearing underpants."

"Well," Draco turned back to his papers. "Take your trousers off, then."

Harry obeyed and laid back, his head at the edge of the table with his antlers hanging off of the end. As before, Draco approached him from above, starting at his scalp and fluttering his fingers through Harry's hair. 

He had to swallow a groan as the other man took his time inspecting the base of the horns. He drew the pads of his thumbs around the circumference where bone met flesh, eliciting goosebumps up and down Harry's arms. His fingers worked back and forth through the new hair growth, tracing over every bit before moving on to his ears. 

The ears were just marvelous. Draco dragged his thumbs around the edges of his pinnae and then stroked behind them right where they met his head. Then the fingers worked their way across his temples to his forehead, then down to his cheekbones, and then they rasped lightly across the stubble that lined Harry's jaw.

Draco circled around and stood beside him now, his gray eyes focused as he worked skilled fingers along Harry's collarbones to his shoulders. He leaned in and inspected Harry's triceps and Harry took the opportunity to inhale the scent of Draco's hair. His shampoo had the dark masculine scent of leather and musk and a hint of night-flowering jasmine.

Draco looked up and met his gaze, and he had to wonder if he knew Harry was enjoying himself. Certainly he had to wonder whether Draco had felt the sniff. 

Draco straightened up and worked his fingers down his biceps and forearms and wrists to his hands, where he pressed into the creases of Harry's palms and flexed each of his fingers. He raised Harry's hands to his face and inspected them carefully, and Harry had to fight the urge to run one finger along the edge of his bottom lip.

It was madness, but surely he was picking up some kind of signal, right? Draco hadn't responded when Harry admitted that he was gay. Hadn't said a single word about it, actually. If he was straight surely he would have said something. Straight men were always clarifying their preferences to him, in a universal paranoia about being hit on.

Then again, Draco took his Healer Code seriously. This could simply be professional. It could be entirely one sided. But oh, what kind of professional would work his fingers around his pecs like that? And that feathery soft glance of a touch around his nipples, what was medical about that? And oh Merlin, he was near the waistband of Harry's underpants now. He was painfully aware that his semi-erection was more than semi-noticeable. 

Draco skipped down and ran his fingertips along Harry's thighs, and come on there was no way that wasn't sexual. And then he was down at Harry's feet, squeezing and inspecting and, to be perfectly honest, massaging. 

"Turn over," Draco's voice was unmistakably husky as he stepped back and waited for Harry to settle on his stomach. He then started at Harry's scalp again and worked his way down his back to his waistband. Without asking he slipped Harry's underpants down and ran his hand across the smooth expanse of skin just above his tailbone. He leaned in close, just as he had done before, his warm breath ghosting across Harry's back. And then Harry was absolutely certain that he felt two lips graze his skin.

His voice was thick, "Mal--"

Three raps at the door and Draco was out of the exam room and crossing the parlor before Harry could straighten his underpants and sit up. He looked around for his clothes and knew there would be no point in waiting to see if the exam would resume. There was nothing more to inspect. Besides, they both knew the curse started and ended at the antlers. There was no point in starting again. 

"I've been waiting for this shipment of bee pollen for three weeks," Draco said as he lugged a big box through to the potions room. "This is good timing because I have another potion I'd like to try on you. Can you be here on Monday?"

"Sure," Harry buttoned up his shirt. He was disappointed, which was silly because what exactly did he think was going on here?

"And see a Necromancer before then," Draco was busy at his desk. Harry stared at the line of his shoulders but couldn't read his posture. He'd better not be laughing again. If this was all just taking the piss--

He arrested that line of thinking. It wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed to not get all tangled up in matters of personal history or pride, not as long as he had any hope of removing the rack from his head. Once that was gone, he could tangle all he liked. For now he just had to trust that Draco Malfoy really did want to help him.


	7. Chapter 7

Knockturn Alley was as dim and grim as ever. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a wary look as Harry squinted at the shingle which hung above the morbid little shop that Hermione had had the audacity to suggest. 

"Tragik's Necromancery," he read aloud. "Looks inviting."

"Come on, my darling deer," Ginny swung her arm and collided with his invisible elbow, yanking him in close and preventing any possibility of retreat.

Hermione twisted the doorknob and they pressed into the darkened interior one after another. They found themselves in a spacious parlor, before a crackling fireplace that did nothing to warm the room. Harry opened his mouth to ask where the proprietor was when a curtain dividing the front from the back whizzed open, revealing a gaunt, bent man with stringy black hair and the waxy pallor of an embalmed corpse.

"Good day," he said in a ghoulish voice. "I am Lester Tragik. How may I help you?"

"We need to speak with someone who passed away," Hermione said. "Can you help?

"Specifically we need to know what spell he cast last." Ginny added.

"Why don't you try Prior Incanto?" the man clasped his hands together and smiled without mirth. "Far be it for me to turn away business but that would seem logical."

Hermione and Ginny stared at each other in dismay and then whirled to stare into the emptiness behind them.

"Ron and I already thought of that," Harry said. "He fell on his wand and snapped it in three. Prior Incanto doesn't work on busted wands."

"We have a guest?" Tragik's eyebrows raised. 

"I want some reassurance of anonymity," Harry said. "Confidentiality."

"Certainly," the man smiled again. "It's the Necromancer's Code."

"Another code, how handy," Harry muttered. He reached up and removed the invisibility cloak, this time managing to pull it down without tangling. 

"Oh my," Tragik's eyes flicked to the tips of the antlers. "Ten points. How virile."

"I need to know what was cast to make this happen," Harry said. "Can you contact the deceased or not?"

"I can," the man swept through the curtain and waved a spindly hand for them to follow. 

The back room was cramped and clad all in black. Tragik stepped onto a raised platform at the center and sat lotus style with his eyes closed. Harry, Hermione and Ginny stood awkwardly around him, and Harry was worried that any sudden movements in the tiny space would send him crashing through another wall. 

"What is the name of the deceased?" The Necromancer intoned.

"Stanley Steubens," Harry spat the man's name, as though that could somehow reverse his fate. 

"Stanley Steubens, I summon thee," Tragik's voice dropped a register. 

"Oh please," Ginny snorted. Hermione jabbed her in the ribs. 

The air shifted in the room, and a wind from nowhere gusted in a cyclone around the raised platform. Harry seized Hermione and Ginny by the elbows in a protective gesture and stepped back. His antlers struck the wall, preventing any further retreat. 

"He is with me," the Necromancer announced. "I have asked him to reveal his last spell."

"What did he say," Hermione shook Harry's hand off of her arm and stepped forward. "Harry cast a Patronus, if that helps."

"He is showing me a mirror," Tragik's eyes fluttered and his head dropped back. "Mirror mirror, on the wall."

"Give me a break," Ginny hissed. 

"Is that all?" Hermione asked. "Just a mirror? How does that help?"

"The dead cannot always speak," Tragik sighed. "Death is such a difficult fate."

"Mirror," Hermione turned to Harry. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"He is showing me a deer in the mirror," Tragik added. 

"Well that's easy," Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's got deer antlers. Not quite the impressive feat of divination, is it?"

"He is departing," the Necromancer said, then his shoulders slumped forward. "He is gone."

"That's it?" Ginny balled up her fist aggressively. "And how much are you charging for that?"

"One hundred," Tragik's eyes opened. "The message may not mean much now, but the meaning may reveal itself with time."

"Right," Ginny turned and strode out of the room. "Let's get out of here."

"If I may," Tragik stood in one fluid motion and produced a small phial from a pouch on his belt. "This is a cure-all. It should allow your body to shed anything that is not part of your core essence. If you are unable to find the counterspell, you could try this."

Harry glanced down at the tiny cobalt blue tube. It was filled with a viscous black fluid, barely a mouthful. He thanked the man and pocketed it, not yet desperate enough to drink mystery potions.

He had to lift the curtain high above his head to clear the doorway without getting tangled up. He told himself to hold steady, to stay optimistic. At some point they would figure this out and his life would go back to normal. But as soon as he was covered with the invisibility cloak and they were out on the sidewalk, panic flashed through him like sheet lightning.

"Thanks, Hermione. Thanks Ginny," he struggled to keep his voice controlled. "I'll see you back at the flat."

"Where are you going?" Hermione grasped at empty air. 

"Back to Malfoy's," Harry said. "Hopefully he can do something with this information."

*********************************

Three raps, a rattle, a clatter, and warm golden light pushed back the cold December air. Harry sidled past Draco into the house and flopped onto the sofa without removing his cloak.

"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Draco said mildly. "What happened?"

"I saw a Necromancer."

"And?"

"It was a total waste of time," Harry groaned. He flopped back onto the cushion and knocked a vase off of the console table behind him.

"Reparo," Draco swished and stowed his wand back up inside of his sleeve. "Why do you say that?" He tried to step around Harry but tripped on his invisible feet and tumbled gracelessly to the floor. His hair flopped across his face and his Healer's jacket caught on the arm of a chair. 

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. It wasn't that he wanted to laugh at Draco, it was that any pratfall went straight to his funny bone. Draco glared at him from the floor. 

"Sorry," Harry swallowed his laughter. "Don't be cross. No matter how you fall I'll always be a bigger laughingstock." He flipped the invisibility cloak off of his head and pointed at his rack. "See? I win every time."

"Typical," Draco climbed to his feet. "Saint Potter even has to win at losing."

"You have to admit I'm losing big time here," Harry went back to moping as he folded up his cloak. "The Necromancer couldn't tell me much. He said the spirit kept showing him a mirror. A deer in a mirror."

"Mirror?" Draco frowned. "I need to think about that."

"It's hopeless, utterly hopeless," Harry dropped his face into his hands and teetered forward off balance. "Forget Christmas, I'm going to be alone with bloody horns for the rest of my life!"

"Antlers."

"Whatever!"

"Listen," Draco glanced at the clock over the mantle. "I have a patient arriving in ten minutes. You're welcome to wait upstairs until I'm finished and then we can look into this mirror symbol."

Harry looked up at Draco and saw a flash of sincere concern on his face, which was gone in a heartbeat as he smoothed his expression over.

"Thank you," he said, the words fighting their way out of his throat, as a deep down resentful remnant protested the idea of thanking the former Hogwarts bully.

"Make yourself at home," Draco retreated to the examination room. "Go now before they get here."

Harry walked sideways up the stairs to avoid knocking the photo frames down this time, and he arranged the sofa with pillows and cushions stacked up so he could take a nap sitting up. He was so tired and his neck was so achy from not being able to lie down properly.

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until a light feathering touch in his hair startled him awake. He jerked his head up with a snort and wiped the corner of his mouth. The room was wrong. It wasn't the shabby flat with a bare minimum of possessions of his and Ron's place, it wasn't the cozy feminine studio of Hermione and Ginny's place. It was deep and comfortable and dark with wood and leather and cashmere.

He sat up quickly as he realized he had fallen asleep in Draco Malfoy's lounge. He whirled around, nearly catching Draco's sleeve on one of his points. His former school rival had shed his white coat and was watching him warily, dressed in a dark purple v-neck sweater over a collared shirt and tie. His hands were in his pockets and his gray eyes were attentive as Harry slowly came to his senses.

"Sorry," Harry swiped at his mouth again, self-consciously aware that he might have been drooling. 

"Is that how you've been sleeping?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Harry tilted his head to either side to crack his neck. "I can't lie down anymore."

"Maybe I can help," Draco nodded for Harry to follow him. 

Harry pushed himself to his feet, limbs stiff and achy from his nap. He was startled to notice that it was dark outside of the bay window, and a light flurry of snow was fluttering past the glass like a snowglobe. He checked the clock on the mantle. 

"Seven o'clock?" his jaw dropped. "How did I sleep that long?"

"You must be exhausted," Draco called from the stairs to the third floor.

Harry hurried to follow him, then paused on the bottom step. Had Draco touched his head? He could have sworn that was what had woken him up. He could barely recall the sense of it, gentle and slow. Or maybe he had dreamed it. 

"I once stayed for two weeks in Japan," Draco called over his shoulder. "I picked something up that might help."

Harry climbed the stairs and followed Draco into a room directly above the lounge. It was the master bedroom, richly decorated like the floor below. Leather club chairs, a mahogany four poster bed, built-in bookcases with framed photos and small keepsakes. Harry lifted a photograph from the nearest shelf and noticed immediately that it didn't move. Muggle film. The photo showed Draco grinning and squinting into the sun with the Taj Mahal behind him, his arms flung around the shoulders of a pair of dark-skinned men on either side. The men were also grinning and one was pointing behind them at the monument. Draco's pale complexion and nearly-white hair was a sharp contrast to the other two. 

"Sanjay and Raj," Draco plucked the frame from Harry's hand and placed it back onto the shelf. "Tour guides. Sanjay had a daughter who was born without ears, the openings and the earlobes never formed. They couldn't afford surgery to repair it, not even cosmetically. But she was the happiest little girl I've ever met."

Harry nodded but didn't know what to say. Draco was holding a small wooden frame in his hand, flat on the bottom and curved on top with a layer of padding and satin covering it.

"It's called a takamakura," he said. "it's what geishas sleep on so they won't mess up their hair."

"You're suggesting I sleep on that?" Harry asked. "I'm not sure how I would keep my balance."

"It's just a thought," Draco turned away. "You certainly aren't obligated to try it."

"No wait," Harry caught his sleeve. He felt badly about rejecting his idea. He was legitimately trying to help. "I could give it a shot."

Draco glanced down at Harry's hand on his sweater and turned back. He handed the padded frame over and watched him silently. 

Harry turned the frame in his hands and frowned. "Was this used by a real geisha?"

"It's for tourist trade," Draco smiled tolerantly. "I never spent much time with the geishas while I was there. Not much allure for me."

"Right," Harry nodded.

"It's coming down hard," Draco went to the window and peered out at the big, wet snowflakes that were starting to pile up on the sill. "I need to run out and get a few things before the shops close. I started your potion but I'm low on shale oil and I need it for the final step tomorrow morning."

"I'll get out of your way, then," Harry said. He pointed to his head, "Unless you need someone to pull your sleigh."

Draco ducked his head to cover up a smile. "I might need some help carrying everything back."

"Do you think anyone would notice if you were assisted by an invisible porter?"

"There are other ways to get around your," Draco pressed his lips together and searched for the right word, "predicament."

And that was how Draco and Harry ended up hitting the town dressed as Santa and his reindeer. Or rather, just the hat parts. Draco had split a brown woolen cap and Reparoed it around Harry's antlers, and then he had donned a long red stocking cap with white fur trim and a white puffball at the tip, which jingled merrily above his shoulder thanks to a bell embedded inside. For all intents and purposes, Harry simply appeared to be wearing a very realistic tribute to the holiday season. 

It was marvelous to finally get outside after being cooped up for weeks. The snowflakes were falling in heavy clusters, not wet or too icy. Hogsmeade was decked out in its finest Christmas decorations, with holly swagged from streetlamp to streetlamp and every tree done up in lights. Shops were still open, making the best of the high shopping season, and the golden glow of the lights inside spilled out onto the freshly fallen snow in checkerboard squares.

Harry loved Christmas. Given his childhood he had no earthly reason to, but the Weasleys had taught him what the season was supposed to be about. And the older he grew, the more he romanticized the holiday. He wished he could scoop up Draco's hand in his and stroll between the lighted trees, not because it was Draco, but because the Christmas wonderland that was the Hogsmeade town square was made for holding hands. Any hands. Even two former enemies' hands. 

They passed fellow shoppers, eliciting friendly chuckles from adults and squeals of delight from children, but as far as Harry could tell no one suspected his antlers were real. A man with a camera asked them to pose for a photo in front of the biggest tree at the center of the town square, and only after they complied did Harry wonder if the picture would end up in the paper. 

_Secret Santa: Horny Harry's Bold New Beau?_

He hadn't come out to the public yet. He wasn't sure he was ready for a headline like that. Then again Draco didn't seem concerned so perhaps he was overthinking it.

They continued on to the potion supply shop for shale oil and a few other staples, then Draco wanted to stop at a wine shop to pick up a gift for his parents. Harry stood near the door with his hands in his pockets and his head very still, worried that any sudden movements would topple a rack of very expensive wine bottles. 

"They're doing a tasting in the back," Draco called from the counter. "Come on."

Harry shuffled carefully between large stacks of oak barrels and followed him into the back room, where a half dozen snooty older men and women were sipping from tiny cups. 

Draco handed Harry a cup and took a sip from his own, before asking the proprietor about the vintage. Harry had no idea what to do with himself, not being much interested in wine vintages or tasting parties. That said, it was rather tasty and he appreciated the opportunity to relax with a drink.

A few minutes later the proprietor brought out another bottle and poured several small cups, one of which was passed back to him straight away. Another nice flavor, drier than the last but still lovely. Draco smiled politely at the other tasters and had a few questions about this bottle, too. 

Another vintage was presented and everyone had another small cup. Harry was starting to enjoy himself. As long as no one tried to bore him with talk of bouquets and aeration and tannins he was happy to continue sipping. 

Several bottle openings later he realized he was pissed. He leaned against the wall and thunked his left antler heavily against the paneling. His face was buzzing and warm. Draco turned to hand him another small cup but halted midway, cocked his head, and deposited it back onto the tray. He thanked the proprietor, purchased two bottles at a price Harry felt was more suitable for an automobile, and then he pushed Harry by the shoulder through the front of the store and out onto the sidewalk. 

"You're pissed," Draco said, although his eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed, too, giving away his own mild inebriation. 

"You gave me like fifty drinks," Harry slurred as they walked back towards the square. "What do you 'spect?"

"Did you swallow?" Draco asked. "There were buckets around the room to spit the wine into. Did you swallow or spit?"

"I swallowed," Harry giggled and stumbled into Draco's arm. "I always swallow. I love to swallow."

Draco tripped over his own feet and clutched his expensive wine bottles to his chest. 

"B'sides, you spat and you're pissed, too," Harry was triumphant as he voiced Draco's hypocrisy. 

"I'm tipsy," Draco admitted. "Your mouth absorbs a bit of the alcohol during a tasting. But you're lucky to still be standing."

"You should try swallowing," Harry waggled his eyebrows at Draco. 

"Charming."

"Look at the square!" Harry threw his arms out wide and almost clocked Draco across the head. "It's Christmas, Draco Malfoy. Even a bastard like you must like Christmas. I love Christmas."

"I do indeed like Christmas," Draco said mildly. 

"Hey," Harry's brain sloshed inside his skull as he whirled around. He grasped his antlers and pulled hard, grunting and trying to break them off by sheer muscle strength. He gave up and let go with a snort. "What if we ended up underneath a mistletoe? Would you kiss a guy with horns?"

"Antlers."

"Whatever. Or are they too ugly?" Harry's heart dropped. He would never find anyone who would kiss a man with antlers, he was more sure of that than anything else in his life. 

"They're not ugly, Potter," Draco said with a tolerant smirk. "They're a bit daft. But they don't change how your face or your body looks."

"But they're awful." The sadness that descended on Harry's sodden brain was as thick as the layer of snow along the eaves. His eyes welled up with tears and he knew he was powerless to stop them. "I'm never going to find someone who will kiss me under the mistletoe now."

"You need to get some sleep," Draco hooked his arm through Harry's elbow and steered him between the lighted trees towards home.

Harry moped but allowed himself to be towed back to Draco's place. The holly strung between the gaslights didn't look merry anymore, it looked sad. Sad for poor Harry Potter, who was cursed with rubbish eyesight and no family and no boyfriend and a pair of bloody antlers. Christmas? What was the point?

Draco led him up the front steps, then helped him up two flights of stairs to the top floor, where he steered Harry into a guest bedroom and flopped him across the bed with his head dangling off of the side. He disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with the geisha headrest.

"I don't even," Harry said, not sure how to end his sentence. 

"I know," Draco quickly and efficiently removed his shoes, then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it over his shoulders.

"You're always trying to get my clothes off," Harry laughed, thinking of the examination room. "Will you touch me again?"

"Potter, you're pissed," Draco grunted as he heaved Harry over onto his side and yanked the shirt free. He rotated Harry on the mattress until he was pointing the right direction, then rolled him back onto his side and propped his head up on the padded headrest.

"Hey," Harry hooked his arm around Draco's neck and pulled him in close. "How do my face and body look?"

"What?" Draco tried to free himself, but pissed Harry had the strength of ten sober Harrys.

"You said the antlers don't change how my face and body look," Harry said, staring intensely into Draco's pale gray eyes. "How do my face and body look?"

Draco swallowed hard and stared back. "Like you," he said softly. "Like an owl-eyed git."

"Is that good or bad?"

Draco took a sharp breath and blinked a few times. "You know it's good." he said. "You don't need me to tell you that."

"You're good, too," Harry said, then closed his eyes and released his grip on Draco's neck. The other man backed away and watched him for a moment, then left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. 

"Good night, Draco," Harry mumbled.

After a pause a voice came from the other side of the door. "Good night, Harry."


	8. Chapter 8

Pain. Neck pain. Shoulder and neck pain. Oh Merlin, the agony!

Harry awoke on his side with his head propped up on a padded wooden frame, his trousers and socks still on. His neck was screaming bloody murder and his mouth tasted terrible. A quick Scourgify took care of the mouth problem. But his neck still--

Wait a minute.

"Where am I?" he asked aloud. He sat up and whimpered in pain as he tried to move his neck. A framed photo on top of the highboy dresser showed a smiling Draco Malfoy standing in front of Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Oh right, now he remembered. 

He squeezed his neck with both hands, hissing in pain as his right shoulder protested the movement. He must have slept in one position all night, with the pressure of his entire body weighing on his side. He rotated his shoulder and moaned again.

A soft tap at the door sat him up straight as he realized that he was naked from the waist up. "Uh," he checked the floor for his shirt but there was no sign of it. "Ow."

"Are you all right?" Draco called through the door.

"I'm fine. You can come in."

"I think we can safely say wine doesn't solve your antler problem," Draco pushed the door open and leaned in the doorway. 

Harry realized his head felt warm and remembered the woolen cap. He tried to take it off but it was stitched around the base of the antlers. Draco touched his wand to the cap and it divided like his t-shirt had on his first visit. It was a handy charm.

"Thanks," Harry held the two halves of the hat in his hands and was too embarrassed to say anything else. He was self-conscious without his shirt. He remembered asking Draco what he thought of his body last night. Bloody wine. 

"Does your neck hurt?" Draco asked. He was dressed in green flannel trousers and a gray muggle t-shirt. His hair was rumpled and he had a sprinkling of blond whiskers along his jaw. "You're holding your head at an angle."

"Yes," Harry tried to straighten up but it was too painful. He didn't want to appear weak. He wanted his shirt. 

"I have something for that," Draco disappeared down the hall, and then a moment later he returned with a small jar. 

"Right. Healer," Harry nodded.

"Turn to the side," Draco waved for Harry to rotate to the right, then he sat on the edge of the mattress behind him and dolloped a bit of the ointment on his deltoid muscle. "Tell me where it hurts."

"Merlin, right there," Harry gasped as Draco kneaded his fingers into a tight knot. He felt a second hand go to work and groaned as the ointment worked its magic and soaked into his aching muscle tissue, releasing the kinks and cramps. 

"Does that help?" Draco's voice was right behind his ear. Both hands worked his shoulders and then moved up to his neck, where his thumbs ran from the base of his skull to his back along either side of his spinal column. 

"Yes," Harry moaned. "It feels really good."

"This is a very effective potion," Draco's voice was soft and close. "It will ease your pain and it should prevent any additional strain for the next forty-eight hours. You can sleep any way you like and it won't hurt."

"Is that safe?" Harry asked, leaning gratefully into Draco's skilled Healer's hands. "Or is it just blocking the pain but still damaging the muscles?"

"I wouldn't prescribe something that would make your injuries worse."

"Point taken."

"Sit for a few minutes and let it soak in " Draco stopped suddenly and went to the door. "The loo is across the hall. I recommend washing the residue off rather than letting it stain your clothes." He scooped Harry's shirt off of the floor at the foot of the bed and handed it to him. And then he departed, feet padding down the stairs to the second floor. 

Harry closed his eyes and sat, blessedly pain-free, and relaxed. He wondered what he should do next. Ideally he would head home and check in with Hermione to see if she'd had any more ideas. Maybe the mirror symbol from the Necromancer made sense now that she'd had time to think. But it was Wednesday and he had an appointment to be here anyway to try out Draco's potion idea. It probably made sense to just shower and go downstairs and see what Draco recommended. In his professional opinion.

The bathroom was as nicely appointed as the rest of the house, with marble countertops, inlaid tile floors, and deep, plush towels that were soft enough to sleep on. Harry unbuttoned his trousers and drop-kicked them across the floor, where they landed with a faint clink. Curious, he fished through his pockets and found the small cobalt blue phial of cure-all that the Necromancer had given him. He checked it to make sure it hadn't come unsealed and then crammed it back into his pocket.

He carefully climbed into the tub and drew the shower curtain closed, standing sideways as he did at home to reduce the risk of antler-damage. The hot spray was exquisite and the bath soap had the same musky, leathery, jasminey smell that he had caught a whiff of in Draco's hair. 

He frowned. Why had he sniffed Draco's hair? It was the touching, of course. If he'd gotten a massage by a hunchback he would have sniffed the hunchback's hair. Which wasn't to say Draco wasn't attractive. He most certainly was. And his Healer's jacket was kind of sexy, the way he sometimes let it hang open, unbuttoned and loose. There were stranger things in the world than finding Draco Malfoy attractive, he decided. 

And he wasn't really much of a prat anymore, was he? He'd joked at Harry's expense at his first appointment, but he was trying to maintain a sense of professionalism now. Maybe Hermione was right, maybe he had matured and that was all it had taken to turn him into a tolerable human being. 

He wondered what he would be like once Harry's antler problem was cleared up. Would they stroll around Hogsmeade ever again?

_Potter's New Pal: Malfoy Makeover?_

Oh come on, that one hardly made sense. 

He shut off the tap and turned around to grab a towel without thinking. Snag. Too late, he reared back to avoid tangling up in the shower curtain, and ended up snagging it worse, the pastel chevron fabric tore free of the rings and slapped wetly against his body, and when he recoiled he slipped, and his feet shot out from under him, and he hit the soap ledge with his elbow on the way down, and the sudden weight on the rest of the rings tore the curtain rod free from its bracket, and with an enormous clatter he fell in a heap with the curtain snarled around him and the rod teetering across his back. 

Feet thudded up the stairs and the bathroom door flew open. 

"Potter," Draco gasped. "What happened?"

"I got tangled up in the curtain," Harry said in dismay, his voice muffled by several layers of fabric. _Bye bye, remaining shreds of dignity._

"You daft deer," Draco lifted the curtain rod free and knelt beside the tub to unwind the fabric from Harry's head and shoulders.

The filtered light brightened as the curtain was lifted from Harry's eyes. Once again Draco was close enough that he was within Harry's range of focus. The rest of the bathroom around them was fuzzy, set back from the small bubble of space where everything was clear.

"Where are you hurt?" Draco was saying, his gray eyes cloudy with concern. "Did you hit your head?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "My elbow."

Draco finished unwinding the shower curtain and tossed it away. Which meant Harry was now naked in front of him with nowhere to hide. He cupped his hand around his genitals and blushed furiously. 

"Let me see," Draco lifted his arm, which meant he had to let go of his groin. His eyes flicked down once but then he lifted his chin and focused on Harry's elbow.

"I think I broke your soap dish," Harry said, all too aware that Draco was inside of his focal range, holding his arm, and within reach of his cock. 

"You're lucky you didn't break your elbow," Draco tsked. He drew his wand and touched Harry's arm, and the pain simply evaporated. "Let me help you up."

Oh Merlin why? Harry nearly died of embarrassment as Draco slipped his arms around his naked body and raised him to his feet. Then he helped Harry step over the lip of the tub onto the fuzzy bathmat. And now Harry was pressed up against him, starkers, with his arms still wrapped around him.

Draco didn't pull away. Harry didn't either. They looked at each other with carefully composed expressions and said nothing. Harry unconsciously licked his lips and thought he might tip his head just a bit. Maybe. Maybe it was an okay idea. Maybe?

Draco's breath shuddered, just a tiny bit but still perceptible. Harry was certain he felt a wave of desire roll off of him and remembered that he had said Harry looked good last night. Clearly attraction wasn't an issue. Maybe he should just--

Draco stepped back and broke the embrace. He handed Harry a towel and said something about coffee on the stove. Then he left without another word.

Harry's knees buckled and he dropped to sit on the edge of the tub. He'd just walked away. Why had he walked away? Surely he'd felt something. He wasn't straight, no way in hell was that the touch of a straight man. So why had he walked away?

He dressed in yesterday's clothes and hung his towel over the rack, then went down to the kitchen. Upstairs he heard the master bedroom door open and the bathroom door close. A moment later the taps turned in the shower.

There were pastries on the table, so Harry helped himself. He wanted to pop home for a change of clothes and some time to think, but if the potion was ready he didn't want to leave without it.

Draco came back down the stairs a short while later, dressed in tan slacks and a green sweater vest with his Healer's jacket on top.

"Do I have time to pop home for a change?" Harry asked. 

"Yes," Draco's demeanor was fully professional once again. "I'm heading down now to do the final step, then it needs to brew for one more hour."

"I'll be back in a bit, then," Harry said. He followed Draco down to the parlor, retrieved his invisibility cloak, and went outside to Disapparate. He didn't even wait to hear the locks rattle.

***********************************

Hermione was on her way out so Harry walked with her beneath his invisibility cloak. She held a book in her hands and pretended she was reciting incantations when she spoke. Her first stop was Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to pick up Christmas treats for the Weasley family.

"Oh no," Harry moaned with dismay from beneath his cloak as they stepped out of the Diagon Alley public Floo. "I just realized there's only a week until Christmas. If I can't get these things off my head--"

"You'll come to Christmas dinner anyway," Hermione cut him off. "They're your family, they'll accept you as you are."

"But not without teasing me royally," Harry said.

"Well that goes without saying."

"That's the part I'm saying oh no about." he said. "And think about how cluttered their house is. One sneeze and I could destroy an entire wall of keepsakes."

"You'll survive," she snorted.

They set off down the sidewalk, weaving in and out through the holiday crowds. Like Hogsmeade, the little shopping district was decked out in merriment, with wreaths and bells and boughs strung everywhere. Enchanted caroling books floated down the road in clusters, singing their own tunes in perfect harmony. Candles hovered in the air above the cobblestone road and the smell of cinnamon and baked goods wafted into every nook and cranny.

Harry felt desperately lonely.

He loved Christmas but this year the sense of having no one to celebrate with weighed heavily on him. Not that he usually had someone to celebrate with, he was frequently single during this time of year. But this year he felt an absence like he hadn't before. 

"Have you had any thoughts about what the Necromancer said?" he asked, trying to shake off the melancholy.

"I have but none seem right," she said, staring down into her book and barely moving her lips. A street vendor pressed a paper sack of cinnamon roasted nuts into her hands and she tolerantly handed over a Knut. She passed one beneath the folds of Harry's cloak and popped another into her mouth.

"Try me," Harry poked her for another nut. 

"The mirror with the deer," she said. "Maybe what he cast reflected your true self back to you."

"My true self is a ten-point stag?"

Perhaps," she said. "Your Patronus is a stag, it's your spirit animal."

"And yours is an otter," Harry pointed out. "Does that mean you're really an otter on the inside? You'd be happy turning into an otter?"

"Point taken," she glanced up and neatly sidestepped a display of enchanted dancing peppermint canes.

"You cast a Patronus when he cursed you," she said. "Maybe it reflected the shape back on you."

"That's not a bad thought," Harry admitted. "So why do the antlers keep growing back whenever they're removed?"

"I don't know," Hermione looked up at the Fortescue sign. "It's crowded in there," she said. "It might be better if you wait outside."

Harry agreed. He pressed himself against the wall of the shop and watched the throngs of holiday shoppers drifting by. He saw families and friends and couples strolling up and down the road and found himself zeroing in on the clasped hands between lovers. A sigh escaped his lips as the overwhelming sense of absence washed over him. He wanted to walk hand in hand down Diagon Alley.

"Done," Hermione appeared with her arms filled with packages. Harry wished he could help, but didn't see how he could carry anything while holding his cloak secure. 

Maybe that's what it was. He was separate from everything, hidden beneath an invisibility cloak, so that he wasn't really a part of the holiday spirit. He was isolated and alone, and he feared he always would be. 

"You're quiet," Hermione murmured as they made their way back to the Floo. "Has Malfoy given up on curing you?"

"No," Harry said. "I'm supposed to head over there in a bit to try another potion. But I'm not going to get my hopes up."

"He's really trying to help, then?"

"He is," Harry admitted. "He's not bad, actually. Very professional. Almost kind."

"I heard that."

"Heard what?"

"That tone in your voice," she said. "You're sweet on him."

"No I'm not," Harry protested. "I mean, yes if something happened I wouldn't stop it but that doesn't mean I'm sweet on him." They walked silently for a moment. "Besides, that would be daft because he's most definitely not sweet on me."

"Oh I get it," Hermione nodded. 

"Get what?"

"Never you mind," she paused at the Floo. "So you're heading over there now?"

"I have to," Harry tried to harden his voice, to make it sound like there was nothing he'd rather do less. 

"Have fun," she stepped into the fireplace and was whisked away.


	9. Chapter 9

"You're late."

"Only by forty minutes," Harry shuffled past Draco into the parlor. "Hermione needed to do some holiday shopping and I went with her."

"Christmas cookies for her centaur pals?" Draco latched the door and crossed his arms across his chest. 

"They're your pals, too," Harry folded his cloak and set it aside. "Aren't they? I heard you only take non-human cases."

"I'm not an advocate," Draco led Harry into the examination room. "I provide care for those who are excluded from most Healers' practices."

"What about me?" Harry sat on the edge of the table and raised his hands to the buttons of his shirt with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow. 

Draco smirked and shook his head. "I simply like the idea of having the Boy Who Lived in my debt."

"Is that all?" Harry asked.

Instead of answering Draco retrieved an Erlenmeyer flask from the potions lab and measured a dose of orange fluid into a teacup. He handed it over and raised a hand to stop Harry from knocking it back. 

"This is very powerful magic," he said. "But it requires focus from you. Focus on what you want, which is those antlers gone. Picture yourself with a normal head, dopey glasses and ridiculous hair and all, and concentrate on being free of the curse. Can you do that?"

"Of course I can," Harry sneered. "I've done powerful spells before, you know."

"Then say goodbye to your problems, because they're about to be solved," Draco stepped back. 

"I like your confidence," Harry raised the cup. "Cheers."

"L'chaim," Draco smirked.

Harry knocked the cup back and gagged on the taste. But with a bit of a struggle he was able to keep it down. Draco retrieved the cup and set it on his desk. 

"Focus."

"I am," Harry furrowed his brow and fixed the image of an antler-free head in his mind's eye. "So where does someone like you pick up a Hebrew word?"

"I spent some time in the West Bank," Draco leaned on his desk, his white coat falling open casually. "I met a family of Veelas who had been injured in a roadside bombing and couldn't find anyone who would help remove the shrapnel from their wounds."

"That's awful."

"Yes it is. Are you focusing?"

"I am," Harry reached up and touched his scalp but the antlers were still there. "It seems like the kind of prat you are wouldn't care much about injured Veelas."

"The kind of prat I am?" Draco leveled a stern gaze at him. "Still stuck on school days, are you?"

"No," Harry pictured himself at a Christmas party, waiting beneath a mistletoe, his head free of horns and waiting for a kiss. "I'm just saying its a big change."

"Big adversity leads to big changes," Draco checked his pocket watch. "Are you focused? It should be taking effect by now."

"I'm focused," Harry's heart pounded. He told Hermione that he wouldn't get his hopes up, but that wasn't true. His hopes were as up as they could get. He had really expected this potion to be the one that would get rid of the curse. So what was wrong? Why wasn't it working?

"Let me see," Draco guided Harry's head down so that he was staring at the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair and felt around the antlers. "Focus," he said more sharply. 

"I am," Harry said through gritted teeth. He was focused. He wanted the antlers off his head more than anything, of course he was focused.

"They're not coming up," Draco released him and returned to his desk to check the potion details. "It should have happened by now if it was going to happen."

"Give it a minute," Harry squinted and concentrated. No antlers, no antlers, no antlers.

"It would show some progress by now if it was going to happen," Draco closed his book and raked his hand through his hair in frustration. 

"So that's it? I drink and sit and then we give up?" Harry demanded. 

"I'm not giving up."

"Well what other ideas are left?" Harry's voice was rising towards a yell. 

"I need to do some more research around the mirror symbol--"

"The mirror is rubbish!" Harry shouted. He grasped his antlers and pulled as hard as he could, trying to break them free. "Merlin's fucking beard, I just want them off!"

"Calm down," Draco was in full professional mode. "It's not hopeless yet."

"Yes it is!" Harry whirled on him. He yanked on the antlers again and shouted in impotent rage. "Fuck!"

"Don't yell at me, Potter," Draco raised a warning hand. "I'm trying to help."

"I know you are!" Harry shouted again. "I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad!"

"Fine, be mad," Draco scooped up his book and headed back into the potions lab. "I'm going to have a look at something."

Harry paced the examination room with fire burning in his belly. This was intolerable. The Ministry Healer was useless, Hermione was out of ideas, Draco was clearly beyond his abilities, in fact he wasn't even sure Draco was qualified to help him. Care of non-human magical creatures? Wasn't that pretty much a veterinarian?

He spun on his heel and felt something shift in his pocket. The phial from the Necromancer, he remembered. He dug it out and peered at it, black viscous fluid sealed in cobalt blue glass. Merlin only knew what was in there, but maybe it was worth a shot. The man had called it a cure-all.

"There's another potion we can try, although it doesn't--" Draco paused mid-step as he returned from the potions lab. "What is that?"

"Got it from the Necromancer," Harry held it up. "He said it cures everything."

"Necromancers are not Healers," Draco held his hand out. "Give it to me. I'll bet you don't even know what's in it."

"He called it a cure-all," Harry insisted. "Why not try it, nothing else is working."

"Necromancers are notorious for using toxins and unproven potions," Draco took a step towards him and shook his hand. "Give it to me."

"Why not try it?" Harry laughed in near-hysteria. "Look at me, Malfoy, I'm a fucking stag! I'm either going to try this and nothing happens or it will fix my problem. It's worth a try!" He uncorked the phial and eyeballed its contents. 

"There's a third option, Potter," Draco said. "It could kill you."

"I really doubt that's going to happen, Malfoy." Harry stepped out of his reach and tipped the phial into his mouth. 

And then everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

"--You silly bastard, Rennervate."

Darkness swirled around Harry's brain as his ears woke up and feeling came back into his limbs. He felt air rushing down his throat and pressure on his face. Three breaths and another Rennervate. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up from Draco Malfoy's examination room floor just as his childhood enemy leaned in to breathe air into his lungs again.

His mouth touched Harry's and exhaled, once, twice, three times. But as he was pulling away again Harry's arms swept up and curled around his shoulders and pulled him back down to his lips. 

He kissed Draco deeply, his fingers running through his blond hair and holding him close. Draco startled and tried to pull away but Harry was having none of it. He parted his lips and pressed forward, inviting Draco to kiss him back. And then he did. He leaned in against Harry's mouth and swept his tongue along his bottom lip, then their tongues slipped together and his arms worked their way beneath Harry's back.

Harry's stomach turned flips. He slid his hand down Draco's back to his waist and firmed his grip, then tried to roll them over so he was on top. But his antler struck the tile floor and his forehead collided with Draco's, resulting in his first kiss-headbutt combo.

"Fucking hell, Potter," Draco released his mouth and rubbed his forehead. "I could have done without that."

"Sorry," Harry reluctantly released the other man so he could sit up. "What happened?"

"The cure-all didn't work," Draco said dryly as he climbed to his feet. "And it bloody well nearly killed you."

"What was in it?"

"I don't know yet," Draco scooped the phial off of the floor and sniffed the cork. "You collapsed and I was a bit busy trying to keep you in the realm of the living."

"Who would have predicted that?" Harry climbed to his feet, too. "I never would have thought I would utter the phrase, ‘Draco Malfoy saved my life.’"

"Really?" Draco said mildly. "It's not like it’s the first time."

Harry ducked his head. Of course. There was the time at Malfoy Manor and the time he kept his friends from killing Harry in the Room of Requirement, right before Harry paid that particular life debt back.

"I know," he said softly. He swept his hand out to snag Draco's fingers and tugged him forward. Draco pulled back and disentangled himself. 

"I shouldn't," he said.

"Why not?" That wasn't the reaction Harry was expecting. He scooped Draco's hand up again. "Let's put on our hats and go for a walk in the snow."

"I can't," Draco freed himself again. "Healer's Code. I can't get familiar with patients."

"Rubbish," Harry stepped up close and pressed Draco against his desk. "I know you like me. Antlers and all." He raised Draco's arms and curled his fingers around the tines. "How would you like to grab on and make me do whatever you want?"

Draco bit his lip and tugged slightly, and Harry swept his mouth up in a kiss. Draco's grip tightened and he pulled Harry in closer to deepen the kiss. Harry threaded his arms beneath his Healer jacket and held him close, reveling in the warmth of his body and soft wetness of his mouth.

Suddenly Draco released him and ducked out of his grip with an embarrassed flush in his cheeks. "I'll be brought up on ethics charges again. I can't do this."

"Well," Harry's mind whirled desperately. "Maybe I don't want you to be my healer anymore. I'll go back to the Ministry Healer. He seems like an upstanding chap, I'm sure he'll think of something."

"He couldn't heal his way out of a paper bag," Draco snorted. "You'd be choosing a hopeless path just for a shag."

"Who said anything about just a shag?" Harry asked. "I want a walk in the snow. I want to hold hands beneath the holly and Christmas lights and I want a kiss under the mistletoe."

"You're giddy because of the near-death experience, Potter," Draco said. "And besides, the day after Christmas, will you still be happy that you made your choice?"

"I don't know," Harry furrowed his brow. "What do reindeer do in the off-season?"

"You need to think about what you're saying," Draco straightened his collar and resumed his professional demeanor. "In the meantime I need to do a quick exam to ensure you're not affected by that Necromancer's rubbish."

Harry obediently sat on the examination table and removed his shirt and trousers without being asked. Draco folded his arms across his chest and raised a disapproving eyebrow.

He stepped between Harry's knees and inspected the top of his head, fingers tracing around the base of his antlers. Harry trailed his fingers up Draco's legs to his hips and ran his hands over his arse. Draco peered into Harry's eyes and checked his ears while Harry slipped his fingers beneath his shirt tail and found the warm skin of his back. Draco laid him down and inspected his shoulders, chest, and arms, while Harry hooked one finger over the waistband of his trousers and ran his thumb along the small of his back. Then he reached up and drew Draco's mouth down to his to kiss him again. 

With a little encouragement he managed to get Draco up onto the examination table with him, and thankfully he laid himself across Harry's body and kissed him back. Harry didn't mind that the weight of the antlers dangling off of the edge of the table pulled his head back. He didn't mind that the wooden plank beneath him was hard and the sheet offered no comfort from the cold. He consumed Draco, he devoured him. He wanted to be devoured back.

"Merlin, Potter," Draco broke free and squirmed down to the floor. "I really can't. I would be ruined."

"We won't tell anyone," Harry sat up, painfully hard and needy.

"Awfully hard to keep it a secret if you want to go walking in the snow," Draco reminded him. He restored his professional detachment. "Get dressed and try a couple of spells."

Harry obeyed and showed off a few basic charms, then shoved his wand up his sleeve and levitated Draco's textbooks with wandless magic. Draco rolled his eyes but didn't shed his professional demeanor any further. 

"Cast a Patronus and I'll declare you healthy," Draco leaned on his desk.

"I can't," Harry shrugged. "I haven't been able to summon one."

"Since when?"

"I don't know, I tried a week or so ago."

"And you didn't think to mention that?" Draco's voice was dangerously flat. "You didn't think that casting a Patronus at a criminal, who hexed you in return, and then you growing antlers, and then your Patronus no longer working was worth mentioning?"

"Well when you say it that way--"

"Potter," Draco squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. "Show me."

"There's not much to see," Harry shook his wand into his hand and swished it. "Expecto Patronum." The white light guttered and fizzled and faded. 

"And you're certain it worked on the day of the curse?" Draco asked. 

"Positive," Harry nodded. "I cast Expecto Patronum and he cast a curse at the same time, which is why I didn't hear it. Then it bounced back at me and the next thing I knew I was on the ground."

Draco's eyes widened. He snapped his fingers and ran into the potions lab without a word. A moment later he raced at top speed through the examination room to the stairs and took them by twos up to the lounge. Harry followed quickly, knocking pictures off of the wall all the way up. 

"It's here somewhere," Draco was muttering as he traced his fingers along the spines of the old tomes lining the bookcases. "Where is it?"

He whirled around and ran up to the top floor, where he ransacked every bookcase until he found what he was looking for. He barreled back down the stairs and pointed at Harry triumphantly. 

"Reflecto Patronum!" he cried. 

Harry blinked, then reached up to confirm that the antlers were still there. "Beg pardon?"

"It's the spell! It's the spell that wizard cast before Weasley topped him!" Draco's professionalism was gone. He pointed frantically at the yellowed page of the old, crumbling tome and repeated himself. "It's the spell!"

"Reflecto Patronum?" Harry frowned. "I don't recall hearing that."

"That's the point! He cast at the exact same time as you," Draco traced his finger along the description. "It sounded just like your spell so when you tried to remember it, it wasn't distinct from yours."

"This is madness," Harry shook his head, bonking on the wall beside him. "What does it do?"

"Your Patronus comes from inside of you," Draco said. "The reflection spell sends it right back in, where your body consumes it. Your Patronus is..." he trailed off expectantly. 

"A stag," Harry touched his antlers again. "So Hermione was right, this was caused by my Patronus."

"Indeed," Draco said. "It's an exceptionally niche spell. Very difficult to cast because the timing has to be exact. Risky to throw because if it fails you're wide open."

"He was desperate," Harry said. "Merlin's beard, Malfoy, have you really figured it out?"

"I think so," Draco's gray eyes were wide and hopeful. "Which means we're that much closer to figuring out how to reverse it."

"Amazing."

Hope blossomed in Harry's chest as the significance of the finding sank in. He laughed once, and then tears welled up in his eyes. Belatedly he launched himself across the room and seized Draco in his arms, swinging him around once before setting him down with a grunt. Then he planted a kiss on his lips and hugged him close. 

"Let's celebrate," he said when they parted. "Let's go for a walk in the snow."

"Potter," Draco sighed. "Don't you think you should wait to celebrate until you're actually cured?"

"Come on," Harry pulled him in close again. "It's Christmas and there are snow and lights and holly out there."

"I can't risk it," Draco said. "The Healer Code says I can't get involved with patients, past or present."

"What?" Harry released him. "So even if you cure me, you still couldn't--"

"I can't have an ethics charge," Draco's eyes were pleading. "I shouldn't even have you up here right now."

"So there's no chance," Harry said. "And this," he gestured back and forth between them. "I mean, I didn't imagine this, did I? Is it all just me?"

He felt foolish, standing there with his stupid ten point rack, barely even able to emote without risking a collision with the wall. Of course it couldn't happen. The Healer Code thing was probably a convenient excuse anyway. Who would want to be with a man with horns?

_Antlers._

_Whatever._

"Okay then," he turned and clattered down the stairs. "I'll see you around."

"Harry," Draco followed him to the door.

"Don't bother with Harry," he grasped the handle but couldn't look him in the eye. "Potter's good enough."

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly. 

"Don't worry about it," Harry unlatched the door and skipped down the stoop. The door closed behind him before he realized he hadn't put the invisibility cloak on yet. Fuck it, let them see.

_Ministry Ball Tonight, Auror Potter Goes Stag_

Yeah, that seemed about right.


	11. Chapter 11

"Don't look at the paper," Ron swept the Daily Prophet behind his back as Harry unkinked his muscles and emerged from his sofa cushion cocoon.

"Why not," he grumbled, stalking to the teapot and pouring a cup.

"You're not going to like it."

"Harry, don't look at the paper," Hermione and Ginny came tumbling through the Floo and landed in a tangled heap on the hearth rug. 

"I assume I won't like it," Harry said as dryly as he could at this hour. 

"It's bad," Hermione said. 

"Really bad," Ginny added. 

"Let me see."

Three pairs of eyes stared at him.

"Fucking hell!" Harry shouted, then cursed a blue streak at the lot of them. When he paused for breath Ron thrust the paper into his hands.

"It had to have been that Necromancer tosser," Ginny spat. "Necromancer's Code, my arse."

Front page center, a story by Rita Skeeter. Headline: _Horned Hero Humps Healer!_ It was so close to what he had imagined, yet somehow so much worse.

Plastered in the middle of the page was the photo of Harry and Draco in front of the Christmas tree in the Hogsmeade town square. The article speculated that Harry's antler hat was actually disguising actual-factual antlers, and that he was sleeping with with his Healer, former Death Eater Draco Malfoy, who was a notorious non-human creature sympathizer with ethical charges in his past.

Below that story was an even worse one. _Healer Shacks Up With Patient, Charges Filed, License Suspended._ And of course it was followed by a story about Draco.

"That's not fair," Harry protested. "I didn't even kiss him until two days ago."

His three friends stared blankly at him. Ron cleared his throat and pursed his lips, an unformed question dying before he could ask it. 

"Yes, I kissed Draco Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes. "I couldn't help it."

"Did he kiss you back?" Hermione asked. Ron winced.

"Yes."

"Then," Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Then it doesn't really matter when the photo was taken or if the story is made up. Because ultimately the accusation is true."

"You know that's not the full story," Harry said. "It's never been that simple with Malfoy and me. There's history there. I'm not just any patient."

"What are you going to do?" Ginny asked, for once not making a joke at his expense. 

"I need to find out if it's true, if he's really in trouble," Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and Disapparated.

He landed just outside of Draco's home but was unable to get near the front steps. The sidewalk was crawling with reporters and photographers and Ministry officials. Draco stood on the top step, looking pristine in his white coat with his blond forelock tucked behind his ear. As Harry watched the Ministry Healer, Mr Chest Pain himself, made a show of serving Draco with papers, amidst the flash and crackle of camera bulbs.

Harry Disapparated back home and went straight to his bedroom where he trashed everything he owned and ended up with clothing and torn sheets and a desk lamp tangled in his antlers.

He slumped to the floor and stared at his feet, his perfectly normal, totally unspectacular feet. Why couldn't the rest of his body take a lesson from his feet? And why couldn't his sodding Patronus just get the hell out?

"Harry," Ron stuck his head into the room and politely didn't comment on the mess. "I just got a call from Kingsley. I told him you were indisposed so he said he would call back in an hour."

"Okay," Harry didn't look up. 

"Listen, mate," Ron crept in and gently unwound the linens and lamp cord from Harry's rack. "You know the Prophet publishes lies. Everyone knows that. Maybe you just need to cast doubt on what they said."

"By showing up in public with antlers to prove I don't have antlers?" Harry asked. "Besides, that doesn't get Malfoy out of hot water."

"What if," Ron hesitated. "I mean you've continued seeing the Ministry Healer, right? Couldn't you deny that you were seeing Malfoy?"

"They have a photo," Harry said. 

"They have a photo of you hanging out as mates," Ron said. "Who could prove you've been seeing him as a Healer?"

"I told the Ministry Healer that I spoke to Malfoy about the horns," Harry said. "He's the one bringing charges, all because of me."

"Did you say explicitly that you were under his care?

"No," Harry thought back. "I said I spoke to him. And then he told me Malfoy doesn't take human cases."

"There's your out," Ron pointed. "Tell Kingsley that the Ministry Healer misunderstood. Remind him that Malfoy couldn't be your healer because he doesn't take human cases."

"You think that would work?"

"It's worth a try." Ron nodded. 

"What about the Rita Skeeter article?" Harry climbed to his feet. "The one that claims the antlers are real and Malfoy and I are involved?"

"I don't know, mate," Ron gave him a lopsided smile. "That kind of truth is harder to deny."

Harry decided not to wait for Kingsley's call. He stepped through the Floo into the Minister's waiting room and politely ignored the gawking stare of the administrative assistant at the front desk. With as much dignity as he could summon he sat in a chair and leafed through a magazine, with a casual demeanor that said, Antlers? What antlers?

Kingsley showed up about ten minutes later and hauled up short at the sight of him. He invited Harry into his office and took a moment to simply stare in awe at his majestic rack. 

"I swallowed my Patronus, sir," Harry said. "Stanley Steubens cast a Reflecto Patronum at me and it caused my body to consume my spirit animal."

"Did Healer Malfoy determine that?" Kingsley's demeanor became very grim very quickly. 

"I've not been seeing Healer Malfoy," Harry said. "I've been seeing Draco Malfoy on and off, but Chesterton Payne is my Healer."

"Potter."

"Of course I've mentioned it to him," Harry continued. "I've also mentioned it to Hermione Granger. You remember her."

"Indeed."

"In fact she's the one who made the connection between my Patronus and these," he gave his right antler a quick tug. "But you can check, I've been seeing the Ministry Healer regularly, as regularly as he requests. Please call off the investigation and return Draco's license."

Kingsley sat back in his chair and threaded his fingers together.

"Unless it's unethical for me to discuss my health with friends," Harry said. "In which case I'm guilty and you would have more people to investigate. But I don't think that's a crime, is it?"

"Indeed," Kingsley said again. He swished his wand once and spoke into the air. "Madeline, please summon the Ministry Healer to my office."

Harry's heart beat fast. If Kingsley doubted him, he would defer judgement to Chest Pain and the man had already admitted that he disapproved of Draco's practice. But if he believed Harry, he had the power to call the investigation off. And then the Prophet could print a retraction and everything could be okay. Assuming Draco would ever speak to him again.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" The Ministry Healer appeared in the doorway and noticed Harry immediately. 

Kingsley asked him to sit and then had Harry explain his relationship with Draco Malfoy once again. The Healer frowned and shook his head, not at all interested in hearing it. 

"Sir, why would I entrust my care to someone who doesn't take wizard cases?" Harry asked. "You said yourself he's taken on, well, how many wizard cases did you say?"

"Zero," the man glared at him. 

"Exactly," Harry checked Kingsley's face. That piece of information was the clincher. 

"Besides," Kingsley added, "why should Mister Potter require the services of another Healer when you are managing his care? One would wonder whether one of our top Aurors is getting the proper care he needs if he has to seek additional opinions."

"Of course, sir," the Ministry Healer stammered. "I have been managing his care personally, with regular appointments to discuss his ongoing treatment options."

"In light of this information, what do you propose with regards to Healer Malfoy?" Kingsley asked.

"The investigation should reveal--"

"Hold on. On what grounds do you now base your investigation?"

"On Healer Malfoy's ethical..." The Ministry Healer's voice petered out. He glared at Harry and pulled himself up straight. "Sir I believe I have grounds--"

"If you had grounds before these allegations why was no investigation launched?" Kingsley asked. "I won't tolerate opportunistic inquiries within the Department of Magical Maladies."

"Yes sir," the Ministry Healer's shoulders slumped. "I will withdraw the investigation."

"You will make a public statement to that effect today," Kingsley said. "And ensure a retraction is published in the paper before the evening edition."

"Yes sir." The Healer pressed a hand over his sternum and grimaced. 

"Chest pain?" Harry asked, his face carefully neutral.

"Pardon? No," he snatched his hand away, glared at Harry one more time, and departed with the briefest "good day" required by etiquette.

"So how long until those things are gone and you're available for work?" Kingsley asked, eyeballing the oversized antlers. He offered a small bowl of holiday sweets but Harry declined. 

"We're still trying to figure out how to extract my Patronus, sir."

"We?"

"Hermione Granger and myself, sir," Harry said quickly.

"Hmm," Kingsley nodded and peered at Harry from the corner of his eye. "I wish you and Ms. Granger luck."

"Thank you, sir."

"And give Healer Malfoy my regards."

"I will, sir," Harry said. "As a friend. Not as a patient."

"Quite right," a tiny smile played at the corner of Kingsley's mouth but he said no more and Harry left in a hurry.

************************************

"I don't know if I should go over there now," Harry said. "Because let's face it, he is my Healer. If we get caught lying..."

"Then don't visit him as a Healer," Hermione said. "I'll do research on my side for the Reflecto Patronum counterspell. Go see him as a friend."

"But--"

"That's what you want anyway," Ginny said. She was standing at the dinette table rolling out dough for Christmas cookies. She turned and took a batch out of the oven, then waved her wand over the pan to decorate them all at once. Then they swirled around, stacked neatly on a platter, and the platter sailed across the room to land on the coffee table. Ron lunged for a cookie, followed more politely by Hermione and Harry. 

"That's a special batch, just for you, dear Harry," Ginny called. 

Harry held up his cookie and frowned at the decoration. It was the shape of a reindeer, with red and yellow icing piped along its body to look like a harness and sleigh bells. On its face in fine piping was a set of round glasses, and she'd even added a messy thicket of black icing hair at the base of its antlers.

"Very funny, Gin," he sighed. 

"Anyway, Malfoy has been totally cleared thanks to you, and he has to know that," Hermione said. "So surely he's not mad at you."

"But it's my fault he was under investigation in the first place," he said.

"True," Ron said. "And he's not exactly the forgiving sort."

"Well, Harry cocked his head, nearly bonking Hermione on top of hers, "he's different, you know. I mean maybe he's not fully different, but he's different enough."

"So go over there," Ginny said. She looked up and stared at him like there was nothing more to say. Her team had chosen to celebrate the season by coloring their cropped hair in a swirling mix of red, green and white, so the rising crest over her face resembled a candy cane. 

"But Ron's right. What if he's cross with me?" Harry asked.

"Make him un-cross with you," Ginny went back to her dough. "I could make ferret-shaped cookies and you could bring him a batch."

"No thanks."

"Harry, he might be cross with you and you're just going to have to apologize." Hermione said. "His work is very important to him, and this situation nearly cost him his practice. He has a right to be cross about that."

"I suppose."

"You know he's been brought up on ethics charges before."

"He mentioned that but didn't say why."

"I looked it up when the investigation was announced," Hermione said. "It's on the public record. It happened about three years ago, not long after he started his practice. He was caught providing care for a Muggle family."

"Magical care?" Ron sat back, stunned. 

"It happened in Brazil, there weren't many details. The Ministry couldn't conclusively prove anything so they dropped the charges." Hermione bit the head off of a Harry reindeer cookie.

"So I got him into hot water again after something like that," Harry sighed. "Why wouldn't he be cross with me?"

"So convince him not to be cross with you," Ginny shrugged. 

"You always act like it's so easy," Harry said. 

"Because sometimes it is," she grinned. "Will you let me help?"

"Will you agree not to bring reindeer cookies that look like me to Christmas dinner?"

"No."

"That's what I thought," Harry sighed. "Well, you can help me anyway."


	12. Chapter 12

It took another day for the furor of the launched and then retracted investigation to die down. First the Ministry Healer gave a public statement clearing Draco of all charges, and then the next evening the Daily Prophet released its own retraction. Harry found it amazing the way accusations were printed with haste, but retractions were measured and slow.

He popped over to Hogsmeade throughout the day and evening, looking for a chance to approach Draco's door without being seen. Even though the retraction had pointed out that their association was purely personal, he still didn't like the idea of being spied upon and further details confirmed. 

Finally around eight o'clock on the night before Christmas Eve Harry popped into Hogsmeade and found the street in front of Draco's house quiet. He clutched the invisibility cloak around his chin and alighted the steps, then rapped a precise three times with the knocker.

The handle jiggled, the locks rattled, and warm golden light spilled through Harry's invisible body and set the snow behind him aglow. 

"Potter," Draco sighed. "What do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

"Do you really think that's for the best?"

"I do."

"I noticed that you were considerate enough to clear me of professional accusations, but not to clarify our relationship." Draco leaned casually in the doorway. 

"If you were so worried about the rumor, you wouldn't be standing there in front of the whole neighborhood clearly talking to a disguised visitor." Harry pointed out. "Let me in, Malfoy. Draco. Draco Malfoy."

"You don't even know what name to call me," Draco snorted. 

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, age twenty-five, born June fifth, pure-blood," Harry crept slowly up the steps. "Single," he reached the top step and leaned up against Draco, just the sheer fabric of the invisibility cloak between them. "Homosexual." He slipped one hand around Draco's waist. "Most recent sexual encounter? Maybe tonight?"

"You are a complete nutter," Draco fought to keep his posture reserved, to stay cool and detached under Harry's touch.

"Let me in," Harry dipped his head to graze his lips along Draco's jaw through the cloak. 

"Fine, but only because I don't want a madman on my stoop," Draco stepped aside and allowed Harry to enter.

Harry brushed by and waited as Draco secured the locks. "I'll need your help getting this off," he said. "I've got a lot going on under here."

"If that's a euphemism," Draco said warningly. 

"Just help me."

Draco swept his arm out in search of fabric, then gently lifted and tugged the cloak down from Harry's antlers. When it dropped to Harry's shoulders he turned around and busied himself at a bookcase, head bowed as he scratched his nose.

"This doesn't fall under the Healer's Code," Harry said. "You can laugh at me."

"Potter."

"You can also call me Harry," he swept the cloak completely off and folded it. He shook his head and grinned.

His antlers were decked in Christmas ornaments and holly, beaded garland and bows. Bright glass bulbs dangled from each point and an angel topped the highest spire on each side.

"It's a bit much, I know," he said apologetically. "But Ginny Weasley helped and she doesn't do anything halfway."

"Indeed," Draco stared in stunned wonder at the riot of decorations that hung from Harry's antlers. 

"One more thing I'm supposed to do," Harry cleared his throat and flung his arms out wide, "Deck the horns with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la."

"Antlers."

"Whatever."

"Don't ever do that again."

"Have a look at this," Harry tilted his head to the left and wobbled. A small green bundle swung from the forward-most point. "Mistletoe."

"Potter."

"Harry." He stepped up close to the other man with his head still angled. "We're under the mistletoe, Draco."

"Complete nutter." But Draco didn't back away or fight Harry's approach. And when Harry pressed forward to kiss him he pressed back with equal desire.

His tongue unfurled in Harry's mouth and swirled sensually. Harry groaned with eight months of pent-up need. He tentatively stepped back towards the stairs and, praise Merlin, Draco willingly followed. He dragged the other man up the stairs by the hand, this time not caring if he knocked down the picture frames along the way. 

He paused in the lounge to press Draco up against the wall and kiss his neck, until Draco grasped his antlers and pushed him back. 

"You're going to put my eye out," he said. Then, tipping Harry's head with a tug of his rack, he dropped his mouth to do a bit of his own neck exploration. 

"That works, too," Harry moaned as Draco traced the line of his collarbone with his tongue. 

It was Draco's turn to lead Harry now, dragging him up to the top floor and pulling him into the master bedroom. They collapsed on the bed, shedding ornaments and holly as they fell.

"Harry," Draco managed around Harry's lips. "The angels on your antlers. They're staring at me."

"Let them watch," Harry pushed Draco's Healer jacket off of his shoulders and yanked it out from under him. Next came his tie and shirt. He was excited, Draco had seen him undressed more than once, and now it was his turn. 

"Sweet Merlin," Harry breathed. That glimpse of milky white skin so many days ago was finally bearing fruit. He dragged the pads of his thumbs across Draco's pale collar bones, then dipped down to taste the flesh where his neck met his shoulder. 

"Potter," Draco flailed his arms and seized his antlers again. "You're going to kill me!"

"Sorry," Harry returned to his mouth where it was safe, then sat back on his heels to unbutton his own shirt. Draco chased the fabric with his fingers, running the palms of his hands down Harry's pecs to his ridged abdominals. His cock was hard beneath Harry's tailbone, pushing up against him with rising interest. 

"Every examination was agony," he murmured. "To touch you, but not be allowed to feel you, it was torture."

"Did I mention that you're fired?" Harry asked. "This is nothing but a personal relationship."

"You no longer want a cure?"

"Hermione is on it," Harry traced his fingers down to the crisp blond hairs that ran from Draco's navel down to the waistband of his trousers. "Besides, there's no reason we can't discuss my problem as friends. And if you happen to come up with an idea there's no reason we couldn't discuss it between friends."

"That's tissue thin, Potter."

"Harry."

"Harry. No one is going to believe that I'm not providing care just because you say I'm not," Draco said.

"If you come up with something you could tell me and I could have Hermione actually do the work. Or I could mention it innocently around the Ministry Healer."

"Maybe."

"Why are we talking?" Harry demanded. "There are other things that we should be doing." He hooked his fingers through Draco's belt loops. 

Draco blushed a deep red. "Right. So. How do you, you know, like it?"

Harry leaned in and spoke with their lips ghosting together. "Bottom," he murmured. "If you please."

"Merlin."

The hard bulge beneath Harry's arse grew, sending an enormous smile across his face. He cast his glasses onto the bedside table and slid to the side, in a misguided attempt to lie on his back with Draco on top. When the antlers made that too uncomfortable, he tried sitting partially propped up on pillows. But then his antlers clacked against the headboard in a terribly unsexy way. So then he flipped Draco back onto his back and raised an eyebrow.

"What might be easier," Draco said hesitantly, "would be if I was behind you."

"Hmm," Harry cocked his head. "I'd prefer to face you."

Draco drew him down for a kiss. "Me too, but for a first time you bottoming on top might be difficult."

"Convince me," Harry whispered. 

A grin broke out on Draco's face, the most unguarded, open smile Harry had seen on his face yet. He plunged his hand down the front of Harry's trousers and grasped his cock, squeezing confidently and gazing up at him with half-lidded desire. Harry groaned in appreciation and fluttered his eyes closed, so unbelievably hard-up for physical affection. Eight months of flying solo was about to come to an end.

"Oh, you can do anything you want to me," he breathed. 

Draco quickly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his trousers, and shoved everything to the floor in one push. Then he stripped himself and guided Harry by the hips until their cocks were pressed together, hot skin trapped between them. Draco reached up and seized Harry's antlers, then wrapped his ankles around his waist and thrust his hips again and again. Harry's jaw was slack, his mind a collision of every thought, whipped into a froth of desire.

"Turn over," Draco said low in his throat. 

Harry obeyed, nearly whacking Draco across the chin in his eager scramble. He knelt on hands and knees and offered himself to the other man, who drew gentle, reverent hands down his back to his arse. Then he leaned in close and exhaled a hot breath across Harry's opening before kissing the puckered skin there.

Harry clutched the sheets and cried at the sensation of Draco Malfoy's mouth. When he felt the first lick he thought he might go mad. When the point of Draco's tongue parted his entrance he thought he might die. But he couldn't die, because that would mean missing out on the-- oh fuck that was good. 

Draco rimmed like an expert, teasing and alternating between pressing in with his tongue and sucking around his entrance with finely honed instinct. Finally he withdrew and muttered a lubricating protection charm, then positioned himself to enter. 

"Draco," Harry whimpered in need. 

"Harry," Draco murmured back, kissing a line down his back before pressing forward. 

Harry sucked in a breath as the familiar fullness filled him with heart-racing exhilaration. There was just something about the first thrust, the uncomfortable stretching that soon melted into pleasure that made bottoming his favorite thing in the world.

Draco canted his hips and struck gold, eliciting a grateful cry from Harry's throat as his a-spot signaled its approval. Confident in his technique, Draco began to thrust, small movements at first and then more as Harry loosened up. 

Harry dropped to his elbows and grasped his own antlers, gasping into the mattress as Draco drove home again and again. And when Draco reached around and grasped his cock, he was certain he would finally find the strength to snap the horns off. 

They were moving fast now, skin slick with the sheen of sweat, thighs slapping together rhythmically, Draco's hand moving in sync with his hips. Harry's blood boiled and his breath hitched as the coiling snake in his belly rose up to strike.

Draco's breath was coming hard and fast now as he pounded again and again, pulling Harry every time he slammed in deep. Harry couldn't hold it back any longer. He let go of his antlers and shoved himself up on his hands, tossing his head back and shouting at the ceiling as he came like a cobra strike, his hips flexing and and his cock pulsating beneath Draco's grip. 

Draco's breath caught in his throat as he climaxed, his hips freezing for one long second, and then pumping furiously as he rose the crest of orgasm down the other side. Finally he stopped spasming and collapsed on top of Harry, out of breath and completely sated. 

Harry dropped to his elbows again and reveled in his second favorite sensation, the post-climax semi-hard cock still inside of him, in that moment of exhalation before pulling out.

Draco carefully withdrew and slid down to lie next to him on the mattress, chest still heaving from the exertion. Harry laid on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands, unable to lean his head to the side or lay his head on Draco's chest like he really wanted to. The antlers robbed him of the intimacy he craved.

"Hey," he said. Draco's eyelids opened heavily. "It's snowing."

"How do you know? The blinds are closed."

"Because it's always snowing here," Harry said. "Let's go for a walk. You and me, lights and wreaths and carolers and magical Christmas."

"You're hopeless, you know that," Draco's voice was sleepy. His eyes slid closed again.

"Come on," Harry tilted his head and poked Draco in the side with one of his points. 

"Fuck, Harry, that hurt!" Draco's eyes flew open. 

"Get dressed," Harry didn't apologize. He feinted as though he would poke him again, which worked beautifully to motivate Draco out of the bed. He grumbled as he dressed but followed Harry down two flights of stairs to the parlor.

They paused just long enough to fix a woolen cap around Harry's antlers and settle the Santa cap around Draco's ears. Then they were outside in the snow, bundled up in their winter coats and scarves.

"Christmas, Draco!" Harry flung his arms wide and spun around beneath the evergreen-strung eaves of the neighboring houses. Tiny lights twinkled on the porch railings and iron fences in front of each lot. Harry waved his arms in a futile gesture to describe the indescribable welling up of love and warmth and peacefulness and joy that overtook him.

"You're such a romantic," Draco said as he watched Harry run back and forth beneath the twinkle-bulb strewn streetlamps.

"I love Christmas," Harry shouted. He turned on his heel and ran back through the snow to throw his arms around Draco and spin him once, not quite the elegant maneuver he'd intended but compensated for in enthusiasm.

He planted a kiss on Draco's mouth and reveled in the pure ecstasy of kissing in the snow. It was everything he wanted. He scooped up Draco's hand in his and they strolled together towards the town square, a big, goofy smile plastered across Harry's face.

"What are you going to do when Christmas is over?" Draco asked. "Maybe these feelings you have are seasonal."

"Not bloody likely," Harry snorted. "There's always New Year's. Parties and countdowns and kissing at midnight. I want to be with you on New Year's."

"And after that?"

"Valentine's Day," Harry tugged Draco in for an embrace at the foot of the big decorated tree at the center of the square. "Romantic dinners and sweets and presents. I'm definitely going to want you to be there for Valentines Day."

"And after that?"

"Saint Patrick's day," Harry grinned. "Give it up, the year is full of holidays and I love them all."

"You're mad," Draco said. "How about we just get through Christmas and see how we get on with each other,"

"Fine by me," Harry dragged him along by the hand, refusing to let go.


	13. Chapter 13

Strong hands stroking Harry's hair drew him out of the realm of sleep and into the waking world. He tipped his head back and cracked open his eyes to meet the soft gray gaze of Draco Malfoy. He traced his fingers down to Harry's shoulders, then pressed his palms down his chest. He ducked under Harry's right antler and pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. 

"It would have been nice to wake up next to you," Harry said as he freed himself from his cushion sarcophagus and bent stiff, sore joints.

"Maybe I should have a custom bed made," Draco said. "Come on, there's coffee and tea and pastries in the kitchen."

Harry followed him to the small table that was tucked into the corner of the tidy and efficient space. The formal dining room beyond was dark, and Harry wondered if it was ever used. A house elf stood on a stepstool at the counter, pouring tea into a teapot and coffee into a carafe. He then brought it on a tray to the table before Disapparating. 

"It's strange to still have house elves, isn't it?" Harry asked. "You care for non-human magical creatures but you keep a house elf."

"He's here by his own choice," Draco said. "He's free to come and go. I compensate him for his services."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do." Draco gazed at him levelly. "What kind of cognitive dissonance would I have to possess to keep a house elf against his will while providing care for his kin?"

"Right," Harry ducked his head. It was a silly idea, he supposed. He poured a cup of coffee and took a big sip. "I'm surprised you want to run your practice this way. Seems like other healers don't approve and you've been in trouble in the past."

"My past trouble had nothing to do with non-human magical creatures," Draco said. 

"Muggles?" Harry asked. 

"It's public record," Draco shrugged. 

"Not really," Harry said. "Hermione looked it up. There wasn't much to learn."

Draco sat back in his chair and gazed thoughtfully at his pastry as he chewed. Finally he shrugged. "The accusation was true. I did provide magical care to a muggle man."

"In Brazil?"

"I was visiting for a week," Draco said. "I had finished with training and wanted to visit South America again before starting practice. I'd been before but I was intrigued by Rio de Janerio. The wizarding community there is very different from ours. It's influenced by Catholicism and mixed with symbols of the slave culture. Lots of tribal magic."

Harry was fascinated. The Draco he had known in school would have turned up his nose at the idea of African tribal magic. It was amazing what traveling the world had done for him. 

"I spent some days mingling with the muggle tourists," Draco continued. "On the third day my guide mentioned that his father was injured. He said they couldn't afford to have him mended. I asked to see him." He paused and sipped from his tea cup but Harry could see the slight tremble of his hand. Clearly the memory still bothered him.

"His family lived in abject poverty," he said softly. "The house was hardly standing, mostly corrugated sheet metal bound together at the corners. His father was suffering badly. He was a bricklayer and he had fallen a week prior. Shattered his knee. He couldn't walk, he couldn't work, his family was desperate." He sipped from his cup again and then braced it between both hands. "I told his son to lay his hands on his father's leg. I told them all to close their eyes and pray in the name of Jesus. And when they were all praying I took out my wand," he took a deep breath and shook his head, "and I mended his bones."

"Merlin," Harry gasped. This was no small infraction. Using magic to heal a muggle was strictly forbidden. To do it where there were witnesses was unforgivable.

"They weren't stupid, they knew it was me," he went on. "I mean they thought it was their faith but they knew I helped make it happen." He took a shuddering breath. "So I ran, and when I could I Disapparated back to my hotel room, and then I took a port key back home."

"How did the Ministry find out?" Harry had forgotten all about his coffee. With a start he took a big gulp and grabbed a pastry. 

"Word started spreading of the miracle healer," Draco closed his eyes. "A fair-skinned, blond man, sent by The Lord himself. The local Wizarding Counsel investigated, then correlated it back to my visit, and sent word to England.

"But they couldn't prove it?"

"The muggles never actually saw me do anything. Besides, I don't use my real name with tour guides," he said. "Just in case the name Malfoy is known and hated."

"Wow," Harry shook his head. "You almost ruined your career to help a muggle."

"I know," Draco nodded grimly. 

"I never would have expected that."

Draco smiled weakly. "Neither would I." He sat forward and looked up at Harry intensely. "If I learned anything from my time in the war, and from my travels afterwards, it's that no one should have to suffer without any hope of salvation. To rob someone of hope is to take everything from them. I never had hope. And when I traveled I saw hopelessness that made what I experienced seem like a sunny walk in the park. No one should have to suffer because they can't afford to be healed. Good health shouldn't be reserved for the privileged."

Harry nodded, struck speechless by Draco's fierce stare. He reached across the table and grasped his hand, and hoped that was enough to convey the awe that he couldn't voice. 

***********************************

Harry waited in the lounge while Draco saw two patients, then after lunch they found themselves up in the master bedroom, Harry on top, seated on Draco's cock and thrusting with his hips in flushed-faced, sweaty abandon. Draco's eyes rolled up in his head in mindless ecstasy, and when he came his back arched high enough to lift Harry from the bed.

They collapsed next to each other on the mattress, once again separated by Harry's impossible antlers. He laid on his stomach and tilted his head so the left side angled off of the edge of the mattress and offered his neck some relief. 

"Any new ideas about my Patronus?" Harry asked. "Shall we get a prying bar and try to unwedge it by force?"

Draco handed him his glasses and cleared his throat, which had gone raspy after his rather vocal show of appreciation for the orgasm. "I'm not sure how to solve this," he said. "The Reflecto Patronum spell drove your spirit animal deep inside of you. I don't know how to coax it back out."

"Some Healer you are," Harry joked.

"Says the man who ate his own Patronus," Draco shot back.

"The Reflecto Patronum reflected my stag back at me," Harry said. "If only there was a way to re-reflect it and bounce it back out."

Draco's eyes flew open. He shot straight up in bed and stared at Harry in amazement. "Potter, you brilliant bastard."

"I what now?" Harry sat up, too.

"The spell reflects or reverses the Patronus," Draco said. "The way to reverse it is to reverse it again."

"I don't follow."

"You don't have to," Draco grabbed Harry by the antlers and yanked his face in close. "We need Granger."

A mad scramble to get dressed, and a Disapparation to Ginny and Hermione's flat, and they were just in time to catch Harry's friends before they headed out for the Weasley family's Christmas Eve festivities.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood in the living room, packing up their presents and edible gifts, and gawking at the sudden and unannounced appearance of their antlered friend and their former school nemesis. 

"Malfoy," Hermione found her voice first. 

"Granger," Draco nodded respectfully. "How are your centaur friends?"

"They're well, thank you," she furrowed her brow at Harry. "What's going on? You look as white as a ghost."

"Draco had an idea," Harry blurted out. "Do you have a minute?

Draco was right, Hermione did indeed understand his proposed cure. She in turn explained it to Harry. It was simple. The Reflecto Patronum had bounced his spell back inside of himself. Cast again, it should reverse it once more and bounce it back out. 

The trick was casting it. Expecto and Reflecto had to be spoken at the exact same moment. If not, the spell would fail. Harry and Hermione practiced saying their respective words at the same time. They practiced emphasizing the second syllable with exactly the same rise in tone, and uttered the second word with the same urgency. They stood across from each other in the small living room, Draco, Ron, and Ginny seated at the dinette table, an unlikely trio if there ever was one.

They counted down, swished and flicked, they spoke the spell in unison, repeating the nearly identical phrases over and over until the cadence was locked in their brains like a song. 

"Just try it already," Ginny finally shouted. "We're going to be late for dinner."

"Are we ready?" Hermione asked. She looked to Draco for approval. He nodded grimly.

"Don't laugh at my Patronus," Harry said. "It sort of fizzles these days."

"We're going to fix it, Harry," Hermione raised her wand and took aim. "It won't fizzle much longer."

"I hope you're right;" Harry said as he raised his own wand.

They took a deep breath in synchronized motion, extended their wands together, and counted down.

Three, two, one, focus, swish, cast. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. 

"Reflecto Patronum!" Hermione called. 

White light guttered and flickered at the tip of Harry's wand, and he feared it wasn't working. Then a vortex spiraled out of the tip of Hermione's wand, and the blue light sucked towards its center like a giant Hoover. The light from Harry's wand grew and expanded and swirled towards Hermione's vortex until the light coalesced into the shape of a large, ten-point stag that bounded around the room until it finally dispersed. As the light faded, Hermione's vortex closed on itself until it, too, was gone. 

The room went still, everyone gawking in unison at Harry as they waited for something, anything to happen.

Then they heard a tiny snap. Then a crack. Then a crackle and more snaps, and then Harry's antlers broke free from his skull and clattered to the floor. Harry's hands flew to his head and met no remnant of the growths, just normal scalp and hair, not even a pair of bald spots where the antlers had been a moment before. 

"Merlin," he gasped, looking up at his friends in utter shock. "Great fucking Merlin."

"It worked!" Draco jumped to his feet. "It worked!"

"It worked!" Harry snapped out of it. He ran to Draco and scooped him up, this time managing to swing him around twice before releasing him with a grunt. Then he swung Hermione around, and then Ginny, and then Ron-- well, he offered Ron a hearty back-slapping hug.

"Can I have these?" Ginny asked, holding an antler in each hand. "I want to mount them on my wall."

"I think it's only fair if I get to keep them," Draco said. "I'm the one who figured it out."

"He's right," Harry said. Ginny handed them over with a grumble. 

"Thank you," Draco said as he hefted the antlers in his hand. "I always wanted to take ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry and his friends stared at Draco in utter horror. 

"How long have you been waiting to say that?" Hermione asked, looking a bit ill. 

"I thought of it the first day," Draco said. 

"That's the worst pun I've ever heard," Ginny murmured in awed disgust.

"You owe me for that," Harry said. "Honestly, it's a criminally bad joke."

"Don't tell me you hadn't thought of it at least once," Draco protested. 

"Just for that I'm going to tell the Ministry Healer to reopen his investigation," Ron shook his head.

"Let's get out of here," Harry shoved Draco towards the Floo. "I need a change of clothes."

"Are you coming by my parents' place tonight?" Ron asked. 

"Not tonight," Harry said. "But I'll come by for Christmas dinner tomorrow." He turned to smile at Draco and took his hand. "Tonight I want to celebrate with an antler-free walk in the snow with my boyfriend."

"Is that what you're calling me now?" Draco's cheeks flushed.

"Yes," Harry grinned. "Watch this" he pulled Draco in close and tucked his head into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Then he kissed his ear and withdrew with a grin. "See? You still have both eyes."

"We're leaving," Ginny made a gagging face and exited the flat with a harrumph. Ron and Hermione bade them good night and followed behind. 

Less than an hour later Harry and Draco were back out in the snow, refreshed, relaxed, and walking hand in hand beneath the wreaths and lights of Hogsmeade's Christmas display. Harry plucked a red bulb off of one of the trees and held it over his nose. 

"Look," he said. "Rudolph."

"Potter," Malfoy shook his head in disapproval. "You had weeks to make that joke. It's too late."

Harry hung the bulb back on the tree and pretended to sulk. "Still better than your joke."

"My joke was gold," Draco snagged Harry's hand and reeled him in close. "Be a dear and admit it."

"That's terrible, too."

"Look," Draco pointed above their heads, where a bundle of greenery hung from a streetlamp. "Mistletoe."

The snow fluttered down from the distant infinity of the sky, collecting around them in a field of sparkling sugar dust. In a world where magic outnumbered the mundane, Christmas was the most magical thing Harry could think of. He drew Draco in close and kissed him deeply, reveling in the wondrous sensation of fingers gliding uninterrupted through his hair.

They parted and butted their heads together, enjoying the muffled quiet as evening settled over the town. 

Harry tipped his head up. "Look," he said. "Mistletoe."

"It's the same mistletoe."

"I know," Harry pulled him in for another kiss. 

Draco smiled against his lips and kissed him back. When they parted he gave Harry a warning smirk. Harry grinned back and looked up again. 

"Look. Mistletoe."

"Are we going to do this all night?" Draco asked. 

"If I have any say in the matter we'll do it for the rest of our lives," Harry said. 

Draco chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas, Draco." He tipped his head back. "Look. Mistletoe."

*****************************************************

THE END


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